Full Moon Over Amity Park
by Werefox Alchemist
Summary: When two strange creatures arrive in Amity Park, Danny Fenton is about to have something bigger than ghosts to deal with. With a raging beast inside him, will he ever be able to stop being so clueless? DxS coming up soon. I promise.
1. Prologue: Two Wolves and a Halfa

Hmm… what do I say… ah, yes. First: this is my first Danny phantom fic, and I haven't seen many of the episodes yet, so be patient. I'm trying, and also sneaking over to my dad's house to watch Monday morning cartoons (and Tuesday morning cartoons, and Wednesday morning cartoons… see where I'm going with this?). Um… I know some people don't like OCs in stories, so if you are one of those people, please click the little back button on top of your screen. Reviews would be appreciated so I know if I'm doing okay. I apologize in advance for the shortness of this chapter.

Warnings/Disclaimers: I do not own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does. This chapter is mostly in my OC's perspective, so it might get confusing. If you've got a problem with werewolves, don't read. That's all I'm saying for now.

---

The golden moon hung high in the sky, caressed by the bitter autumn wind and nestled in among the stars. Every so often, a fluffy gray cloud would float menacingly below it, obscuring the friendly light for a few seconds before moving on. It was a deceptively nice night. No one would have guessed, having looked only briefly at the so-called 'great' outdoors, that the pleasantly warm atmosphere masked a tangle of horrors.

In Amnity Park's park, a creature desperately tried to hide. Its long, ivory white fangs shone in the full moonlight, golden eyes alight with fear and the exhilaration of the chase- except it knew it was on the wrong end of the chase. Ears, pointed like twin mountaintops, shot straight up at any noise, however miniscule. This was the look of a beast that had been running far too fast for far too long.

It stopped, collapsed under a park bench, its ragged brown sides heaving in exhaustion. A long tail, the fur clotted with dust and matted with barely congealed blood, swept around to cover the wet black nose. It was done. The chase was over.

But let no one say it had not tried to fight. It was too proud to go down that easily.

Another of its kind, big and arrogant and putrid smelling, stalked out of the shadows. It could always hide in shadows. They seemed to like it. Shadows love darkness, and there was plenty of it in this new creature.

Werewolf some screamed. _Loup-garou_, others cried. The truth was that whether you called it _faoladh_ or _varulv_ or even _libahunt_, you were speaking of the same thing. Many names, same animal. _If_, and that's a big if, you could say it was an animal.

It lacked something, some fundamental animal-ness. It was different. And the part of it that still possessed human intelligence was deeply and profoundly worried about that, even with more pressing matters at hand. Was it normal to be part beast and part man? Certainly not. But things were never normal for long. You had to move with the times, and, unfortunately, the times were edging in a dangerous direction.

This too worried the wolf. It may have been next-to impossible to kill, but that still left an opening. And there was far too much silver in the world for its taste.

The other wolf, the black one whose coat shone like steel in the pale light and whose eyes betrayed nothing but cold dead hatred, slunk closer. A voice whispered in the good wolf's ear to run, telling her (for it was a she-wolf) that she would soon be needed for grand things, but she did not listen. Wolves are stubborn that way. Show them a problem, and their solution will doubtlessly be to fight.

The other wolf leaped first, but the she-wolf caught hold of its throat and twisted her head. A carnal growl ripped from between her canine teeth, and she threw the black wolf, pelt dark as midnight (if you ignored a trickle of scarlet streaming from the region of its chest) in the dirt. This was a grave miscalculation. She should have hung on, as soon became all too clear as she found herself pinned to the spiky, impeccably cut grass but a set of iron claws.

The she-wolf was mad. Mad with an anger inherited from thousands of others before her, who all seemed to be shouting in her ear, "Kill it!" Unluckily, or-as some like the infamous Vlad Masters might put it-luckily, both sets of ears perked as a new sound was heard, one that temporarily halted the fighting.

From far away in the distance, a teenage boy was heard bidding goodnight to his friends. "Bye Tuck!" The kid called. "Good luck fixing your PDA, man!" A pause, and the wolves thought it was over. "Uh… 'Night Sam! See you in school!"

A little known fact about werewolves (or lycanthropes; they're not picky on terminology) is that they are often times the servants of Fate. Whether the good Fate or the bad Fate, they are there. And they are famous for hearing the voices of new talent, as it is smack-dab in the process if being discovered. If the person was already slightly existential, so much the better.

In the park, two angry, loathing wolves, both nearly rabid with desperation, battled it out on the turf. And somewhere else, a new talent thought to himself, rather foolishly, _It's a nice night out. Maybe I should walk home instead of flying._

_---_

It's often that the little things that count. If only Danny Fenton had stayed a little longer at his friend's house, perhaps a great deal of tragedy and adventure could had been prevented. Perhaps we would not be here now, recalling the tale of the most famous werewolf in history. Perhaps Danny would have stopped being clueless of his own accord.

Maybe. But probably not.

As Danny walked towards his house, taking the park route home, he noticed two things. One, there were two very large, very creepy looking dogs battling. Two, it had been a full moon for three days. It's amazing what some people will overlook, but being half ghost tends to heighten your senses when it comes to all things paranormal.

As he stopped to watch, trying to come to terms with a nagging sensation at the back of his head telling him that things were not as they seemed, the bigger dog threw its adversary to the ground, where it landed like a sack of rags. It sort of looked like a sack of rags.

The bigger dog appeared to speak to the smaller, and then all Danny could remember were flashes of light and sound.

_Flash! The bigger dog tore an ugly gash down the other's shoulder._

_Flash! The bigger dog saw him, and pounced._

_Flash! Trapped under a ton of stinking, grimy, grisly twisted flesh, he attempted to transform into Danny Phantom, scourge of ghost hunters everywhere, but could not._

_Flash! It bit him in the same place as on the other dog, and as he bled profusely it raced off. He noted that it melted seamlessly into the shadows, as if it had never been there at all._

_Flash! New flesh crawled evilly over the gap in his chest, covering up the slimy purple muscle that had been exposed. He felt like throwing up, and did so._

The last thing he could recall before passing out was the crash of rolling thunder, and another dog over him. He hoped his end would be swift… and then the darkness claimed him.

---

"Bloody hell!" The she-wolf exclaimed, as rain poured from the suddenly not so inviting sky, and vast thunder clouds stampeded high above the land. The earth was suddenly a churning sea of muck, and she knew she couldn't leave the boy there. It wouldn't be right.

Rats. She'd almost gotten the edge, too, and then this… this… _frootloop _(werewolves have a knack for picking up regional dialect, even if all they have to go on is slang used by passed out teenagers in park) had gone and showed up too soon. It would have gone perfectly if the boy could have walked a few paces slower.

Now that other Messenger had gone and wrecked it all. Look, the poor kid got so much of a scare that he passed clean out! The wound may have gone, but mental aggravation lasts forever.

Double rats. It was raining harder, if that was even possible. It was like stepping into a mini hurricane in the Midwest. It wasn't good. It wasn't right. It meant that werewolves had been around, and sooner or later somebody was going to start noticing things. She hated people who _noticed_ things. They tended to be too nosy, and too goody-goody.

Cursing mildly under her breath, the wolf sniffed Danny. Okay, she could tell where he lived now. All she had to do was drag him there.

Easier said than done. Ten minutes later, she found herself outside Casper High, thinking Well, this can't be right! Surely the kid doesn't live in a school, for Fate's sakes!

Ten more minutes later, she was outside the Manson house.

Then in Tucker Foley's yard.

And at something called Nasty Burger, which she assumed could only be frequented by people with extremely bad taste in food.

Then, at last, she was at the Fenton household.

It was late, but that didn't matter much. The important thing, of course, was to get the poor boy out of the storm. There would be questions, sure, there always were, but she could sort them out.

The wolf did the only thing she could think of that would help. She left a note.

--

Whew! First chapter done! Review, please! You get cookies!

A note: none of the werewolf trivia here is accurate except for the alternate spellings. I got those off wikipedia, which of course means that I don't have absolute faith in them either. You have to be careful with that site.


	2. The New Kid

Here is chapter 2. I dedicate it to Cold-heart-Angel23, who liked this fic one heck of a lot more than my supposed 'best friend' did. I had a hard time with this one, because honestly, I didn't really have a plot planned out going into this. I almost never do. I just sit down and write, and if it comes it comes.

Corrections Corner: You may have noticed a few words missing here and there in the previous chapter. It was late, and I regret the error. I shall never type while drinking coffee again.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Though I would really, really like to, Butch Hartman will never concede to me even being a writer on his show. Which is probably for the best. As demonstrated quite clearly here, I am insane.

When Danny Fenton woke the next morning, it was against his will. That is to say, he might not have gotten up at all were it not for the loud, repetitive buzzing of his alarm clock.

It was a moment before he could muster the strength to turn it off, or even open his tightly shut eyes. His stomach turned over uncomfortably, and he felt sick. This did not help with his plan to wake up. The world of his mind seemed to be filled with hazy gray fog, especially the part of it concerned with remembering the previous night. In his head, he could see himself leaving Sam's house. He'd walked, instead of flying… it had been a great night, after all. One of those nights that makes you (ironically) feel alive.

Then… what then? He fought to recall some memory, some scrap of recollection, but came up with nothing. And that ridiculous alarm clock was really beginning to tick him off.

One hand, that suddenly felt stronger than normal, reached out and grabbed the offending appliance. Channeling all his annoyance into his hand, he tightened his grip…

And smashed the clock. There was a sickening crunch, like pack ice breaking up in the dead of winter, and the beeping died a slow and agonizing death. He clenched his fist around the plastic. Shards of synthetic clock-casing and those little LCD crystals flew across the room, to which the term 'blast radius' would now have applied most fittingly.

Growling in a manner most unlike himself, Danny sat up, blinking. Part of the experience was coming back to him, but the tendril of thought would slip away whenever he got close enough to comprehend it. Absently, his hand strayed to touch the place on his flesh that should have been raw and tender, torn open to the world.

Oddly enough, he was fine, or at least that part of him. Taking off his shirt, he realized that he hadn't changed into his nightclothes before sleeping. It was as if he'd collapsed into bed after returning home from somewhere, but surely that couldn't be right… he had been neatly tucked under the covers until just recently.

The wound, if it had ever existed at all, was gone. In its place was nothing. Absolutely nothing to suggest that he hadn't been dreaming… but it didn't feel right.

Bits of the dream were finding their way back to him in a rush, and he found that none of them made any semblance of sense. Maybe it had been a dream, all of it. Perhaps it hadn't been real, just another fantasy borne of a brain too overworked with ghost catching. He sighed and swung his legs out of bed.

Now he _knew_ something was up. Nobody, no matter how tired, goes to bed in their grubby, mud coated sneakers. At least, nobody in their right mind.

A puff of blue smoke exited his mouth, and Danny felt the rings of light move over him… and nothing happened.

On the street below, a wolf trotted happily past, its tail waving jauntily in the air.

(page break here)

Preoccupied by various things pertaining to his current state of mind, Danny began the daily trek to school. Of all the places he would rather not be going at that moment, Casper High was only slightly below the pits of hell. At least there people might give him some answers.

His parents had been singularly unhelpful. Jack and Maddie had both attested to the 'fact' that he had showed up at home right on time the night before, watched television for a few minutes, and then gone to sleep. He wasn't buying any of that, and he knew that they weren't either. Their eyes had taken on a glazed sort of look as they spoke, and they had seemed to be reading things off a badly printed cue card.

And none of that explained why his ghost powers had gone. Deep down inside, beneath the part of him that was secretly glad to be rid of the Phantom, was a tiny, squashed piece of consciousness that said, _Yes, that's lovely, but what if Vlad comes back? He wouldn't care that you couldn't go ghost, he'd attack anyway, the crazy old frootloop. And how, exactly, do you suggest we protect Sam and Tucker while you're like this?_ Everyone has those voices, and all of them are equally nagging. The problem was that it just wouldn't go away.

There was also a big blank being drawn up over the new sense of power that ran through him. The longer he was awake, the weaker it got, but that didn't seem to stop it frightening the heck out of him. It was a strange, bestial kind of feeling, and rather creepy. It was the type of thing that, instinctively, you know you can't control.

Not entirely bothered with the problem of where he was going, Danny forgot to look, and subsequently ended up walking straight into someone. Picking himself up off the ground, he saw that somehow he had made it the school… and there was a girl he'd never seen before staring at him quizzically. "Well?" she asked, arms crossed on her chest, one foot tapping irritably on the concrete.

"Well what?" Danny asked, confused, his brain still stuck on what it had been occupied with seconds before.

"Aren't going to apologize for running into me?" the girl asked, somewhat incredulously.

Suddenly, Danny didn't feel much like apologizing. If someone makes you do it, you aren't generally very inclined to do as they wish. "No, actually," he said, staring back at her with as much hostility as he could affect at that moment which, admittedly, wasn't much.

"Good," the girl said decisively. It came out as more of a bark. "People who go around sorrying their lives away don't have enough time to live." She stuck out a hand, which was covered in burnished steel rings. Most of them featured skulls or bats. The whole style was like something Sam might wear, he thought. "I'm Kai, by the way, and don't bother telling me that's a boy's name; my parents are cruel people in that respect."

Danny was definitely confused now, but was liking the girl more. "Ah… hi?" he said tentatively, grasping her hand as if it was made of red-hot lava. Her grip was firm enough to crush bones, bringing tears to his eyes. "I'm Danny Fenton. It's…" he fumbled for a word that was both polite and accurate, "interesting to meet you."

Kai mercifully let go of his hand and shoved her own in the pocket of her well-worn blue jeans. She was wearing a black t-shirt with a wolf emblem embroidered on it. She looked at him up and down. "I'm an expert on the weird," she said, looking straight into his eyes as if searching for something. Apparently she found it, because she snapped her gaze away to glare interestedly into a clump of bushes. "If you need any info on… ghosts or vampires or stuff like that, come to me. Especially werewolves. They're my specialty." She gestured at her clothing.

Danny gulped, wondering if she could tell he was a halfa, but was spared further conversation by the arrival of Tucker, who was panting. "Hey Danny," he managed to choke out between gasps of air. "I see you've met Kai."

Kai looked at him with more nonchalance than was humanly possible. "You need to get out more, Tuck. A little exercise nearly killed you there."

Tucker glared at her, and then diverted his attention to his beloved PDA in defeat. "Since when is running five miles at top speed after your idiotic friend considered a 'little' exercise?" he grumbled.

Danny looked from Kai to tucker and back again. "Do you know Tucker?" he asked, wondering where the new kid had come from.

Kai yawned and scratched her neck. Bending over, she rummaged around in a large navy blue duffel bag that she had set on the pavement. "Yeah," she muttered, throwing various useless or broken objects out of the sack as she talked. "He's my pen pal. Or, more accurately, my e-mail pal. I don't think he even know how to use a normal post office, like regular people."

Danny chuckled, and watched her remove a large leather-bound book from her bag. "What's that?"

She squinted at the cover, possibly to make sure she'd gotten the right thing, and, blowing dust off the tome, flipped through the pages. "Can't see how that's much of anyone's business. It's a book on the paranormal. I wrote it."

"You wrote it?"

"I did say I was an expert, you know. I've spent years researching this stuff."

Years? How could that be? Kai looked to be about the same age as Danny and Tucker, so that didn't leave much time for ghost researching…

Sam picked that moment to walk up. "Hey, Danny, hey Tucker," she said, staring at Kai. "Who's this?"

Kai proffered a hand, slipping the book back into its bag. "Kai Wolfstein," she said, a strange look in her eyes. "And let me guess, if that's Danny, then you must be Sam. Tucker told me all about you guys."

"She's Tuck's pen pal," Danny explained.

"Right! I'm from..." she turned to Tucker and hissed, "Quick, where am I from again? Oh, yeah… I'm from Ontario. My moron parents blew up our house last week, so I decided to take a vacation."

Sam shot her an odd look. "Okay… how did that happen, exactly?"

Kai shrugged. "Eh, I dunno. That the bad thing about having mad scientist parents; half the time their crazy experiments don't work, and I end up living in a hotel for a month. Unsurprisingly, that's what I'm doing now."

"You're not staying at Tucker's house?"

"Nope. I don't like other people's houses much; they make me feel out of place." The bell rang. "Time for class!" She shouted, as she was already halfway up the sidewalk. Danny groaned. This was going to be one strange week, he could tell.

(page break)

"Wow, Kai, that's really good!" Tucker whispered, presumably to his pen pal. Danny felt a little guilty for spying on their conversation, but it wasn't his fault they sat right behind him. He couldn't help overhearing.

"Not my best work, actually. It'll be better once I color it, but I forgot my markers at the motel." He heard her turn slightly in her seat. "As soon as I saw them, I just had to draw it. I mean, you told me in your letters but I never thought… They just are so perfect together."

"Man, it looks just like them except… do you always have to draw everyone as a supernatural being?"

Danny could practically feel the withering glance aimed at Tucker. He wasn't sure he liked the direction this was going in. "What do you take me for, Tuck?" she asked, sounding slightly offended. "Some kind of idiot? I'm not stupid, you know; I'm an expert. It's nice you can keep people's secrets, but honestly. It's fairly obvious, if you know what to look for."

"All the same-" he was cut off by Lancer.

"Mr. Foley! Ms. Wolfstein! Would you care to share your discussion with the rest of the class? Give me that!" Kai sheepishly tore a piece of paper off her tablet and thrust it at the teacher. "Say, this isn't bad. Detention! After school!" He marched up to the blackboard and taped the drawing there. Danny felt his heart shoot straight into his stomach. Kai had been drawing Danny and Sam. The Phantom was flying her over the city, and both of them looked positively love struck. The hearts around the border helped with that effect.

The rest of the period passed in a blur. Danny dimly heard Sam get up, stomp over to Kai's desk, and threaten her with various sorts of punishment, but other than that he mostly concentrated on sinking down into his chair and being as inconspicuous as possible.

(page break)

Lunch hour came too slowly for Danny, but upon its arrival he cornered Kai. "Look," he said, taking a dangerous route, "I don't know how you figured it out, but could you possibly not tell anyone I'm a ghost? Speaking of which, how did you know, anyway?"

Kai grimaced. "Don't worry. I know what it's like to have a deadly secret. Tell you what: if you notice anything strange going on with… your powers, and it doesn't stop, give me a call. I'll explain it then." She handed him a card with the hotel phone number on it. "Ask the woman at the desk for room 205 and I'll pick up."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"If everything is as I suspect it is, we'll have more to discuss later." This was far too cryptic for Danny, so he gave up. Halfway to the lunch room, a spasm of icy pain wracked his body. Nausea boiled in his belly, which now felt as if it had been jabbed with a white-hot poker. Staggering, he made it to the bathroom and threw up it a sink.

Wiping his mouth off, Danny looked in the mirror and jumped back a few paces. His hair was white, his eyes glowed green, and, shockingly, there was fur on his face. He reached up to touch his cheek, but felt nothing but smooth skin. Not for the first time, he wondered what could possibly be happening to him.

His head throbbed, and he lay down with it on the cool tiled floor. The day just kept getting worse and worse.

(page break)  
_Much later…_

Even monsters get scared sometimes, though by different things than your average human. Usually, the things that can scare a werewolf would make a mortal die of fright. Or a gaping hole in the chest.

The wolf sat on the bed, an overstuffed king-size, and glowered at the dark nightmare perched in one of the armchairs. In the background, the television was going.

The other wolf stared right back, radiating the sort of bad vibrations that give you shivers in your spine. His golden eyes were like hot brands, boring into her fur. If wolves can smirk, he was doing just that. "So then," he growled in a sickly sweet voice, "I see you are still being unreasonable. I will give you one more chance, mongrel, before I have no choice other than your complete and utter destruction. Leave now, and live. There is nothing you can do."

The she-wolf cocked an eyebrow (which was anatomically impossible) and sighed. "You are the worst super villain ever, you know that. I can see it in a comic book now: Ghost Boy versus the terror of lame speeches."

The black wolf sprung to his paws, ears flattened against his skull. "You think this is funny? You think it's a game? I have won, you hear me! My master has won!"

The smaller of the two snorted and flopped down on the mattress. Admittedly it wasn't very comfortable, but she would have been surprised if it was. "That's what I'm afraid of. You don't seem to grasp the extent of what you did. You say I think it's a game? Why would I ever view it that way? I've seen what this has done to others like the boy; it never ends well."

The smirk deepened. "This time I got it right. This time, I bit the strongest human of all. He may not know it yet, but his well of untapped power is vast. I… merely helped him unearth it."

"Helped?" The she-wolf roared, enraged. The bestial part of her snapped at the air, fangs slamming together in primal fury. "How can you say you have helped? This will tear him apart, if he even survives the first transformation. His kind was never meant to become us! We are separate entities, and always have been!"

The black one shot her a pitying look. "Dear girl, don't try to kid me. I know that somewhere, some part of you wonders what's going to happen next. I have created the most powerful being in history, and you wish to see how it turns out."

The she-wolf sat in calm anger and thought. After a moment, she spoke. "Once, I thought the world was one big story, there to be read. I always wanted more, to know what happened next. That's why Antigoras told you to bite me, before you turned… into this. But now I realize that that is wrong. There is no such thing as true fate. For while fate is rigid and unchanging, you can shape your own destiny." She smiled, a grim ruthless sign of her chagrin. "That's what we're really for, you overgrown toad. We exist to help those with great skill find their destiny. We do not change it. We do not fight over the right to do so."

"Ah, but those were the old times. This is a new century, a new era."

"So? Who says we have to change this radically? You're headed for war with this, you know."

"And? My side exists to destroy all there is. Those who leave the world now are simply… avoiding the rush."

"Bastard," the she-wolf spat, and stopped. She looked at the clock. Nine at night, and the phone was ringing. "Excuse me," she said sweetly. "I have to take a call."

(page break)

This chapter was kind of sucky, but the next one will be better. Today's episode was the one with Wulf, and let's just say it gave me some 'inspiration' for later chapters. As always, reviews would help a lot.


	3. Symptoms of Disaster

Here's chapter three. Again, remember, I'm just stumbling through this. If it sucks, that's why. This chapter is one of those pesky 'explanation' chapters that everybody hates, but it's vital to the plot. Real chapter next time, I promise.

Corrections Corner: I forgot to put in better page breaks last time. Oops. Oh, and it turns out I've been spelling Amity Park wrong this whole time. Curse thee, wikipedia!

Warnings/Disclaimers: I STILL do not own Danny Phantom. Happy now, glowering copyright lawyer? And as always, none of the werewolf trivia is accurate. Check wikipedia if you doubt me. Possible sexual innuendo in this chapter… it's rated T for a reason, ya know.

---

_Ring, ring! Ring ring! _Danny Fenton sat in his room, a cell phone to his ear, waiting feverishly for the person on the other end to pick up. He felt terrible. He felt sick. His head felt like it would explode if he had another thought again, ever.

If this was what having a hangover was like, he was fairly certain that he wouldn't be drinking in the future. Not that he'd even had water to drink in the last few hours. Anything he ingested invariably came back up again. His muscles itched under his skin, and fog drifted across his vision, blurring everything.

_Ring, ring! Ring ring!_ The worst part, if he had to pick one, was definitely the tail. It didn't exist in the conventional manner of speaking, but it was there nonetheless. He could feel it. It was there, its nerves sending data to his brain as surely and impossibly as the amputated arm of a saw mill victim would to its former owner. He couldn't touch it, but it was there all the same, wrapped tightly around his legs. The tip was twitching. It made him dizzy just thinking about it.

And if he looked in a mirror, he would see fur and a pointed snout and ivory fangs. After the first time it had happened, earlier that day, he'd assumed it was an isolated episode and made it through the rest of the day relatively without incident. Unfortunately, the second he walked through his bedroom door it had happened again, worse this time. And it wasn't going away.

Despite the fact that he hardly knew her, it had been time to call Kai.

_Ring, ring! Ring-_ "Hello?" Someone, sounding disgruntled and vaguely dog-like, had picked up at long last. "Kai Wolfstein speaking. If you're looking for the office of Antigoras, I can transfer you. Otherwise, what can I do for you?"

"Who's Antigoras?" Danny said, his mouth not moving properly, causing his speech to slur. "And why do you sound so funny?"

"Oh, hey Danny," Kai said cheerily. "No offense, but _you_ sound like hell. I put you on speakerphone because I'm having some trouble with the cord. Have you ever tried holding a receiver with paws? It's not easy."

"What?"

"Nothing. What can I do you for? If it's something major, I'm going to have to ask you to come over here; I'm in the middle of a meeting."

Danny swore, something that he didn't normally do. "How important is this meeting?"

There was a loud crash in the background, like someone (or something) putting its foot through an expensive sounding television screen. "Oh, pretty important, I'd say," Kai said airily, and then, to the other person, "Oi! Stop that! Old Anti only gave me enough money to cover hotel fees, and that's without having to replace appliances!"

Danny gave in. Any argument with Kai was obviously futile; she'd just wave it off or ignore it. "When should I be over, then?"

"Soon, hopefully. If you're here, then I've got a good excuse for getting rid of my current guest."

---

After hanging up the phone, Danny had snuck out and headed for the hotel. It was an icy night, with bitter fall winds that nipped at his ankles and howled worryingly around buildings. The moon was still full.

That was odd, wasn't it? The moon usually stayed full for a day, maybe two if you weren't good at noticing the difference between waxing and waning, and then it went back to a nice, friendly crescent. There was something sinister in the way it was the same. Perhaps it was all a trick of the light?

There was one car in the parking lot, an ancient Ford Mustang with a coat of glossy black paint and nothing much else going for it. Besides that, he was alone. The streets were deserted, and the windows filled with dark shades. Kai's hotel was in the center of the city, and yet it looked as foreboding as the Bates motel.

Still feeling sick, he wandered into the hotel and up the creaky stairs to room 205. He knocked, and waited. There were more muffled crashing noises, and then the door creaked open to reveal a panting Kai. "Hello, good sir," she said in an overly loud voice that suggested that if Danny knew what was good for him, he would shut up, stay out of the way, and not ask any questions. "Would you care to wait in the hall for a few seconds while I deal with my client?"

"I-"

"Fantastic! I'll be with you momentarily, yes?" The door slammed in his face, and a shouting match (or bits of it; the door was pretty solid) was audible. Something smashed against the closed door where Danny's head had been moments before, causing a visible splinter in the façade. Pretending he didn't notice anything, he surveyed the hall. It couldn't have been creepier if the owners had been trying. Brass brackets held candles that dribbled blobs of hot wax over the wood-paneled walls and floor. Strange red stains ran the length of the tattered, faded carpeting. The window at the end of the hall was cracked beyond hope, and a family of cat-sized rats had moved into a mouse hole big enough for a human to fit quite comfortably. Why did he get the feeling that this was where Kai would fit in best?

The door blew open, and a rather flustered young man in a rumpled and torn suit jacket stalked out. His nose was crooked, hooked, and looked misplaced on his face. His hair was jet black with streaks of silver, and flopped over his forehead and across the brims of his gold-rimmed glasses. The glasses masked eyes like coals of fire that glowed red in the light, and went back to being brown when he stopped moving. He fidgeted a lot and always seemed to edge towards the nearest source of darkness or, if not that, then at least a considerable absence of light. His brows were fixed in a permanent scowl.

"We'll settle this later!" he snarled to Kai, before glancing at Danny on his way out. "And you, boy… watch your back. You never know what's hiding behind it." He did not walk away so much as vanish into thin air, though his footsteps rang down the hall as he stalked off.

"Who was that?" Danny asked, focusing on Kai. She was still wearing her usual ensemble, but it was ripped in several places and looked to have been thrown on at a moment's notice. "And what happened to you?" He looked past her into the room, which was largely in a state of disrepair. The bed sheets had been thrown off, and lay on the floor. Danny gave her an odd look, which earned him a smack over his throbbing head.

"Get your mind out of the gutter! He was being a bastard. I hit him. He hit back. Fighting ensued. End of discussion." She glared, making it very clear that any further talking on the subject would not be condoned. "His name's Drakkus Bacchus, though most people call him Drake Brock. Nasty piece of work, really. Not the sort of person you'd like to meet in a dark alley, or even in a brightly lit one with plenty of burly policemen around. Now, come on in. I made coffee."

Danny was ushered into the room and seated firmly in a wickerwork chair. Behind him, he heard Kai lock the door and bolt it. A hot mug of something that neither looked nor smelled much like coffee was thrust into his hands. "I don't drink-"

"Drink it. It'll help your nerves."

"This doesn't look like coffee." He took a small sip. "Doesn't taste like coffee either."

"It's coffee. Drink it." Again, her tone closed the discussion. But he didn't drink anymore of it. Kai pulled another chair up, and fixed herself a cup of the coffee that wasn't coffee. "Now, what do you need?" She grabbed the book for reference.

Danny took in the room. It was a bit on the small side, mostly because of the piles of papers and books that were strewn across what had once been called the 'floor'. Various liquids bubbled in tubes on a table along one side of the room, and a whiteboard with markers and what looked to be a hand-drawn map of the city dominated the wall farthest from the door. He hesitated. Honesty, here, was probably not the best policy. This girl was a fanatic. Those people could be hard to deal with. "I have… a friend with a problem," he began, having to consciously stop himself from gripping the mug too tight. If it met the same fate as his alarm clock had, there would be complications.

"Really?" Kai asked, looking interested. "I do love a good problem. What's up? Do I know the guy?"

Danny sighed. It was hard lying to someone this genuinely nice. The word 'clueless' sprung to mind, but that wasn't right… she had the air of knowing everything. She just didn't want you to know she knew.

Though he could not possibly know that, Kai was currently applying the same word to Danny.

"My friend… thinks he's been bitten by a werewolf. He's checked around and it all seems to add up, and… he's got some questions."

Kai glanced at him like a hungry lion biding her time until the moment to strike arrived. "Why isn't your friend here to ask me those questions himself?"

He didn't like lying. He really didn't but… this was one of those things that you didn't just go around telling people. She was Tucker's friend, true, but that didn't mean anything. Anybody could be anybody's friend; it didn't automatically make you trustworthy. "He lives in Wisconsin," Danny invented, his mind drawing up an image of the only other halfa in existence.

"And he's sure it was a werewolf? Wolves can get big in a place like Wisconsin, you know."

"Positive. It was a clue when the wound healed straight away."

Kai nodded pensively. "Yeah, that sounds right. Any external symptoms? Or internal ones? There are different kinds of werewolves. Some bites can be deadly."

Danny gulped. Deadly? That didn't sound promising. Maybe he had gotten one of the harmless ones. Oh, right. There were no harmless ones. "He sees fur on his face when he looks in mirrors, he's got a ghost tail, he's constantly sick to his stomach or throwing up, and he's got a killer headache. And… I don't know if this would make a difference, but he's got the same powers as me."

Kai, who suddenly looked impercievably more alert, squinted one eye and drummed her fingers or the chair's armrest. "Ghost powers, huh?" She asked, reaching for a small tablet and a pen. She scrawled several things down on the paper before continuing. "That would change things up a little. Look, this is a whole new ball game now. Just start your questions and I'll answer them as best I can."

Danny thought for a minute, searching for a logical jumping off point. "He's noticed that… that his powers don't work anymore. It's kind of scaring him. Is there some sort of hidden reason behind that?"

The specialist got up abruptly and marched towards the white board. "Look over here," she grunted, uncapping several markers. She spent a moment erasing the previous drawing, and then penciled in a stick figure using the black marker. "Let's say this is your friend," she said, still illustrating. A green wavy border, supposedly of ectoplasm, went up around the stick figure art. "And this," she gestured at the border, "is the unimaginable corner inside him that houses his spirit. You know the definition of ghost, right? It's basically just a spirit without a body to inhabit. That's important to keep in mind." She was still drawing, and two more stick people went up in the border, one on either side of the original. They were smaller than the first by a large bit. She pointed with a marker at the one on the left, a replica of the first. "This is his normal spirit, see? Mostly, normal people have one of these most of the time, and that's it. Finite. Curtain call. End of the show, Mac. But people who are part ghost spend most of their time with two souls in one body.

"They say that it's like two sides of the same coin: you're essentially the same person, but one of you is ghost, and one is human. This is incorrect. The other you is a separate entity, see? Not the same at all. The only reason you stay you when you 'go ghost' is that the human psyche is stronger than that of the other spirit." During this part of the lecture she alternated between drawing and pointing vaguely at the other figure on the right. It was in gray pen and had two green glowing eyes. "Now, the body was built to hold one spirit at a time, and that's it. But, as you must know from experiences with overshadowing, it can contain one more if it has to. This is commonly called 'being possessed', but in this case it's different. When you yourself are overshadowed, it means that the ghost is most likely simply hovering around you, controlling the actions of your ghost half.

"Unfortunately, it draws the line at three, which brings us to a little conundrum." She stopped, and Danny realized that a third smaller figure had materialized, this time in the space between the top of the board and the top of the first figure's head. It was brown, and had claws on the ends of its stick arms as well as pointy ears. "See, when a werewolf bites you, it has the same effect as whatever turned you into a halfa; it splits your spirit apart. Sort of like cells dividing, but not. Now, as long as there are three souls in one body, the two break-away ones will battle constantly until a clear victor emerges. The loser is evicted into the world around. Not a real ghost, by the way, because it can't become corporeal. It just exists. This is the underlying source of any disappearance of powers.

"It's deeper than that, though. The wolf spirit is sort of like and ethereal tick; it clings on to the dominant soul in the host body, drawing energy from it. It is the inevitable victor in any such battle. And until it comes out on top, it causes symptoms such as your friend described. The tail means it's not far from its goal."

Danny was still confused, despite the fact that he'd been taking notes on Kai's tablet. "So, what you're saying is that my friend will never be a ghost again?"

"That's not it at all! There's no reason why your friend couldn't get his ghost back. We just have to get some antidote in him."

"So there's a cure?" Danny said excitedly. Soon, the whole ordeal would be over.

"Nope. But I'm working on it. At the rate I'm going, we should have one by the end of the century. Or never. We'll see how that plays out." She waved at the bubbling stuff.

Danny's hope took a nose dive. "But my friend will be dead by then!"

Kai sighed, rubbing her temples. "No, he won't. Werewolves don't age, Danny. He'll be whatever age he is now until the end of time or the day we find a cure. Whichever comes first."

Moving on, Danny asked his next question. "My friend says that the moon over Wisconsin has been full for almost a week. Why?"

"Werewolves. The moon where they are is always full. It's part of the curse, see? Doomed to change every night of their lives. Quite painful it is, too. There's no end to it. Of course, if your friend gets used to it, it's not so bad, really. Or so I hear."

"Can you tell me a bit about the transformation?"

"Not really. It's different for everybody. But after you're first bitten, it takes a few days of bodily preparation before you can transform. Hurts like hell the first time, and takes longer too. On average, it lasts about a minute, but if you get really good you can drag that down to thirty seconds. At first it's around three." Kai seemed to have a knack for answering the questions you hadn't asked.

"My friend has to turn into a werewolf every night of his life? What'll he do for a living?"

"Best kept secret of werewolves. Lucky thing I happen to know it. All werewolves work for the Fates."

"Fates? But-"

"That'll be all for today," Kai said, hauling him off his chair and pushing him in the general direction of the door. "Kai's emporium of supernatural info is now closed. Have a nice stay in the hall."

"But-"

"Bye now!" She said heartily, about to close the door in his face. "See you in school." The door halted halfway across its trajectory, and a mischievous voice from behind it said, "And Danny? You should get Vlad Masters a present for being such a useful scapegoat in this talk. Might I suggest a nice… cat?"


	4. Shadow Wolf Desires

As promised, this chapter's got more action in it. I hope people like it… the number of reviews I've got is currently very discouraging (though I am forever greatful to those who have reviewed: much love to all of them.) Also: even though it's the middle of August in real life, it's October in my fic.

Corrections Corner: I've been forgetting to put in anonymous review replies. Look for those at the end of the chapter.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Uh… nope, still don't own it. I dreamed I did, though. Man, was that ever sweet.

---

The door slammed in Danny's face, closing the conversation. In reality, going to see Kai had done nothing but condemn him to a life of feral nights and painful transformations.

A part of his mind that hadn't previously been there said, _Well, Sam likes the night, doesn't she? Maybe this'll score you some points with her._ This struck Danny as odd. Sam was a friend, right? You're not allowed to think things like that about your friends, right? _Right. You just keep thinking that, Fenton._

So he was a werewolf. That much was certain. The thing that bit him couldn't possibly have been a normal dog, or even a normal wolf. Everything fit; the moon, the symptoms, the sudden disappearance of his ghost powers… and that was bad. What happened when he started sprouting fangs and going all furry when the sun went down? How would he explain it to his parents? They might be lenient on him-werewolves were a step away from ghosts, after all-but there was always his mother's tendency to experiment on the paranormal to contend with.

And how about Tucker and Sam? He didn't want to scare them, but they might be able to help. All the same, the fewer people who knew about it, the better. What could they do, anyway? Kai was the one developing the antidote, even if she was completely hopeless at it. Perhaps he should ease into it; start by dropping hints and move up to talking to them while he was a wolf…

It was a scary thought, to think about yourself as something other than human. Ghosts were one thing, as most of them had once been people, but wolves? They were animals. No one wants to wake up one morning and think, _Oh, my ears are all pointy. Must be that time of the month._ Except, of course, werewolves were werewolves _all the time_. No days off for vacations or holidays. On the bright side, he'd have a killer Halloween costume come Saturday. Joy.

Note the withering sarcasm in the last sentence.

"Ahem! What do you think you're going to do, stand in the hall until the sun comes up?" Kai had appeared at the door.

Danny was jolted from his ponderings instantly. "Huh? Oh… no, I was just going. See you in school, Kai."

"Later, Danny. Remember; it's not that bad. Werewolves are largely misunderstood creatures. No worries mate."

"Was that an Australian accent? I thought you were from Ontario!"

"Um… my parents were immigrants? We can chat more tomorrow." The door slammed again, and Danny sighed. Kai was definitely off the deep end, but at least she was the good kind of loony. You know, the sort that isn't evil and/or trying to take over the world. She was nice, if a little weird, and truly knew her material.

Wandering down the hall and out into the parking lot, his mind found the strangest part of the talk- the last, brief word on werewolves that she had said before casting him out. She had said that all wolves worked for the Fates. What Fates? What were werewolves supposed to do for them? All and all, she really could have been more thorough.

His tennis shoes crunched loudly on the gravely pavement. There was a roar as the engine of the black Ford turned over and sat idling in the lot. The headlights flickered on, blinding Danny as the golden beams hit him. The light wavered for a fleeting second as something large and sinister passed in front of the car, and then he felt a sense of overbearing dread flood his nervous system.

He hit the ground hard, without a moment's notice as the shadowy creature smashed into him, crushing his chest. The pain was unbearable. His lungs were flattened, and every gasp of breath was a struggle. He looked up and saw the black wolf, the one that had bit him. It was back.

Had he been that sort of person, Danny might have screamed and given into the fear. But he had spent months as the Phantom! Months protecting his town, his people, his friends. Who was he to lie down on the job, even if the only one he had to save was himself?

Springing up, he threw the lupine beast off of him, and jumped on it, holding its thrashing head in a lock. It stopped moving, and as Danny was caught off guard, sunk its teeth into his arm. It scampered away a few paces. "So," it hissed, pride and something approaching happiness evident in its voice. "It worked, did it? I knew it. Admit it, boy; you want to crush me, to kill me, to tear me into shreds. That fool is wrong, and she knows it. You are a wolf now. You are one of us. Show it!"

Startlingly, he realized that this was true. He really did want to see the wolf suffer. Not just that, but to cleave its flesh in two, to watch the blood pour out of its evil, stinking nasty, flea-bitten carcass- the words weren't his, though. The feelings, the desires were being spouted by the wolf, putting thoughts in his head. Or was it only reading his emotions? Did it truly know what was in his heart?

"Enough!" He roared, the sound coming out in a guttural tone. The blood was rushing to his head. He wanted to kill. And yet… he didn't. He knew it was wrong. He couldn't kill someone; that wasn't what he did. That wasn't what heroes did. He was the hero, right?

_Right. You just keep thinking that, Fenton._

Those voices in your head are annoying under regular circumstances, but they're downright disturbing when they seem to be telling you to take a human (okay, slightly human) life. Danny tried to contain himself, to get back to some attempt at normal, but was unsuccessful.

The wolf began slinking away in movements so miniscule that no one would notice them if they weren't specifically looking. "Wonderful, boy! Remember the hatred! Keep the fear! Store it away for when you need it! Use the anger, boy! Use it!"

Danny yelled as his spine arched back. It felt as if his bones were splintering and healing right away. His skin prickled, his eyes rolled back into his head and then… it was all over. He straightened up; searching for the dark wolf, but it was gone. Behind the wheel of the Ford was Kai's 'friend' Drakkus Bacchus (more commonly known as Drake Brock by anyone who didn't have a death wish). There was a smirk on his foul face, and there was something wrong with the way he appeared…

He was in mid-morph. His face was coated with fur, quickly retracting into his skin, his fangs were shrinking, and his ears were losing their peak. Danny's eyes widened. Did Kai know about this? All evidence pointed to 'yes', but still… she seemed to have the highest opinion of all werewolves, and had nothing but loathing for Drake. If she didn't know already, he would have to tell her.

The car pulled away, and Danny was dimly aware of Drake yelling out his window: "Catch you later, kid! Enjoy high school… while you still can!"

---

Another wolf stepped out into the dark, her fur fluffed up in tense fury. "Well now," she growled, her tail lashing angrily. "Isn't this interesting? That moron fuzz bag comes up here to talk to me about 'not interfering' and then he… this… that bastard!"

She prodded Danny with one claw. He squirmed. "At least he'll live," she sighed, looking him over. "This kid's got a real talent for getting into trouble."

A flash of lightning rent the sky, a claw tearing through a thick shroud, as nature prepared for the second tempest in the same week. A vicious wind swept across the barren plain of the parking lot, blowing with it scraps of trash and debris. A hail of bullet-strength drops cascaded down, pounding over the city. It drummed a tune, fierce and wild like the distant music of the forest wolves, on the tin lid of a nearby dumpster.

She could hear it, the true voices of her fellows, calling out from far away. From the mountains, and the woodlands, and the hills it came filling her with morose longing. In their hearts, all werewolves want but one thing; to run with their more natural cousins under the pale moonlight, the cover of darkness.

She tipped her head back to the sky, closing her eyes tightly, and let the song flow out of her as well to join the waning silver voices of the her beast kin.

And from the cloak of sleep that from time to time claims us all, Danny howled too.

---

_This has got to stop_, Danny thought. This time, he woke up on the floor of his room, every muscle in his body burning with pain. His entire being was one huge Charlie Horse, and if he wasn't positive of his continued existence, he would have sworn that rigor mortis was setting in.

Furthermore, his dreams had been rather disconcerting. All of them were… inappropriate for civilized discussion. They were still as real once he returned to the waking world as they had been before.

He tried to get a fix on what time it was, but noticed an extreme lack of alarm clock on his desk. Based on the position of the sun in the sky… he had about fifteen minutes to get to school. Oh well. What was one more day in the same clothes, anyway?

To be honest, he was sort of anxious to tell Kai about Drake; if she didn't know already, she should. This wasn't one of the nice, kind werewolves that she seemed to love- this guy was deranged. And dangerous. How could he have had that effect on Danny? Even on a bad day, he would never have dared harbor thoughts of murder. It was unthinkable. And yet, there he was, with a small aftertaste of malice still hanging about his system.

Every move he made hurt terribly. Nothing in him was functioning properly. But he had to get up and go. Nothing screamed 'bad day' like sitting in detention with aching muscles and an invisible tail.

Every hurried step he took was torture, made all the worse by the fact that he was impressing it upon himself. If this was what being a werewolf was like, he was ready at that moment to dedicate the rest of his life to helping Kai find a cure.

"Danny! Over here!" Sam was yelling at him, and with some difficulty, he raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, Sam," he choked out, managing a weak smile.

"Are you okay? You seem a little off."

"Fine, fine. Look, have you seen Kai today? I've got something real important to tell her."

Sam glared at him suspiciously. "Not this morning, no. Why? What's so important that it just can't wait?"

"Um…" Somehow, Danny felt that this was private. Besides, Sam didn't even know who Drake was. He was thankfully spared the painful explanation by the bell, which signaled first period. "Look at the time! Gotta go, Sam. See you later!"

---

The first half of school could not have passed slower for Danny. It seemed that time had crawled to a stop, and the seconds were ticking away at a speed to rival dripping molasses or a drunk snail.

At lunch time, Kai finally turned up. She was clutching a sack of food from Nasty Burger in one paw- sorry, hand, and had a newspaper tucked under one arm. The bag was dripping grease. "Hey guys!" she barked happily, placing herself in a seat next to Tucker, which put her across from Sam and Danny. The bag rested on the table, exuding rivulets of liquid fat and gristle. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was heavy."

"Do you _mind?_" Sam growled, staring in horror at the repulsive sack. "Some of us are trying to use our lunch hour to actually _eat_."

Kai shrugged. "So am I. Learning builds up a big appetite."

"But… you just showed up now," said Tucker, who was equally revolted by Kai's lunch choice.

Kai eyed him evilly. "Don't get smart with me, Foley, or I'll slam that lunch tray so hard over your thick skull that you won't see daylight until next Tuesday."

"Being a little immoral, are we?" Danny asked, wondering what had gotten into Kai.

"Everyone has their bad moments, Fenton. I just happen to be in the middle of a bad month. Or year. Or possibly even decade." She opened her bag, which was crammed to the top with burgers. Watching Kai eat was a fascinating spectacle. She was capable of devouring an entire burger in a minute flat without giving the impression that she was rude. The entire meal, bag and all, was gone from the face of the Earth within a quarter of an hour. (No, she didn't eat the bag- she threw it in the trash.)

After she had finished, Danny dragged her out of her seat and marched the both of them off to a quiet, secluded area where they could talk in peace. "Kai," he began, "I think Drake is a-"

"Werewolf?" Kai supplied, glancing at the front cover of her paper. "I've always known that; it's hardly old news. Hey, you've got a nickname. Inviso-Bill. Cute." The headline of the paper read, COULD THE DISSAPEARANCE OF INVISO-BILL BE LINKED TO THE CHANGES IN THE LUNAR CYCLE? A BAFFLED SCIENTIST SPEAKS. There was a picture of Danny as the Phantom.

"Aren't you mad? The guy's clearly pure evil! He gives werewolves a bad name! And it is not cute, it's inane!"

"You really need a better publicist. This photo barely looks like you."

"You've missed the point entirely!"

"Sometimes I try to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kai paused, and looked up from her paper. "It means that there are times to ask questions, and times not to. This falls into the second camp."

Danny didn't know what to do, and said so. "I'm going crazy, Kai. I can't live like this!"

"You get used to it. Everyone does. Life goes on."

"That Drake… he made me feel like a monster. I wanted to kill things, to hurt, to cause misery and despair."

She considered this. "Yeah, that sounds like him alright. Regular Mister Sunshine, he is. Ignore it. That's the best thing to do in times like this. Just sit back, pour yourself a cup of hot drink, and ignore it. Remember: there is no evidence that life is so serious. Take it as it comes, and leave the fringe stuff well alone. Though there is merit in the idea of staying off from Drake. He can be hazardous to the untrained mind. Or the trained one."

"But-"

"Don't ask so many questions. You'll live longer." A thermos was proffered and handed over.

"What's this?"

"Drink it. It helps."

"But what _is_ it?"

"You might think of it as chicken soup for the werewolf soul."

"What'd you do; grind up a book and make coffee out of it?"

Kai rolled her eyes. "Do I look stupid? That never works. Drink it anyway."

---

Picture a room, far away from Amity Park, where time really has stood still, if it ever existed there at all. Picture sloping stone walls, worn smooth by the gentle stream of time, and cavernous halls filled with elegant gold-plated furniture. There are swords and maces mounted on the walls, because that's the sort of place it is.

Picture a figure, not more than a few feet high, cloaked and seated in his magnificent throne. His gloved hand plays idly with the trimmed hem of his robes, while the other one raps out a funeral march on the armrest. He has done this so often that the leaf has peeled off.

Picture his servant, a great shaggy wolf, coming towards him down the red carpet. The servant's eyes betray none of the fear he feels, be he reeks of it. The moonlight and torchlight take turns dappling his coat.

Picture and hear the words the wolf says, as if in a dream. It is all a dream, truly, everything is. Wise men know that. "It is Drakkus, master."

"What of him?" snarls the cloaked figure, both hands gripping their rests hard enough to leave a shining residue on the gauntlets. "Has he done something utterly foolish and ludicrous again?"

"Yes, my lord," says the servant, trembling in frightened agony. He knows he will be punished. His master has never heard the expression, 'don't kill the Messenger'.

"Then what? Out with it!" The master's rage fills the room, hanging over it like a thin veil.

"He has… bitten one of great and unplumbed depths of power. The Fenton boy."

The master's eyes narrow under his hood. "Thank you, Hortus. You may return to your quarters." Hortus went, joyful in successfully completing his task without the side effect of death. "Oh, and Hortus?"

"Y-yes s-sir?"

"Tell the children of the night to stop that bloody music, will you? It's driving me up the wall, and I have a headache." Picture Hortus leaving. Picture the crickets outside promptly shutting up, hoping to not have their tiny heads slashed off.

"So," the master says, alone at last, "it has come to this. I always should have known. Thesarus!" A scrawny gray wolf with a bad leg appeared. "Call Antigoras the Good. Tell him that Brother Bartholomew sent you. There are urgent matters to be straightened out right away."

---

And the plot thickens some more! Review, please! You get cookies! And, as you may have guessed, Bartholomew is another of my OCs, though I probably don't own him either, with my luck.

Before I start the reviews, I have an announcement: I am now looking for a beta reader. If you're interested, PM me or e-mail me about it. It has come to my attention that I really need one. All new chapters to be previewed will arrive via e-mail.

**Anonymous review replies:**

DP fan: Thank you very much. Here is the continuation. (Obviously)

Charon: And thanks to you too. You have no idea how nice it is for me to be prasied... everyone I know from real life hates my work. And werewolves are awesome.


	5. Breakdown

Another short chapter, as I couldn't fit many scenes into this one, I am lazy, and have a head ache. There will be a preview of part six at the end, since I am feeling generous.

Corrections Corner: I am fairly sure I got everything right in the last chapter.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Lots of my OCs in here. Sorry. Again, Danny Phantom and all related properties belong to Butch Hartman, not me. But you knew that, right? Being that this is If I owned it, this would be the plot of an upcoming episode.

---

From his place on his bed, Danny's eyes snapped open. The new clock on his table flashed 3:21 a.m., though he didn't need to look at it. It was early, and that was all he needed to know.

The dreams had been different this time, and that was both a relief and frightening. Castles and death rode high in them, vast armies so great that they covered miles of land like a sea of angry, rabid humanity… and he was the leader. Images of towns and major cities destroyed by fire and reduced to smoldering piles of rubbish and bones seared themselves into even the farthest corners of his brain. There was nowhere left to hide.

And he knew. The Phantom was gone now, possibly forever. In its place was only the Wolf. Though he knew this should make him uneasy at the least, the waters of his heart were calm and still. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

_Tonight_, part of him was saying, _it will happen. It has to. There's got to be a first time for everything, and this is it. _Why did he want it to happen? Why, despite the pain and the terror it was bound to put him through, did he want to become the wolf, to feel the new power flowing through his veins? Why did he still want to tear apart anything that moved?

He felt no aches, no soreness or nausea. His binding muscle twinges had gone, but the invisible tail was still there. This didn't bother him so much anymore. Tranquility stole down upon him.

Wednesday, 3:25 a.m. Exactly two days, six hours after the bite, and already it was taking effect. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and it was coming into play. Actions, even reactions, have consequences. This was going to be one huge consequence.

---

"Antigoras?"

"Yes, Barty?"

"First, never call me that. Second, is Kai with him?"

"Of course, Barty. She's the best."

"Good. Gods help us if Drake gets away with this."

"Should we fix the situation ourselves?"

"Not… now. Let's see how your apprentice handles it."

"But Barty-"

"No buts! And for the last time, don't call me that!"

---

The bell rang for lunch hour, sounding out loud and clear in the crisp fall air. Though she was neither hungry nor inclined to talk, Sam Manson made her way through the lunch line and over to one of the tables. Tucker wasn't there; he was serving time in detention for playing computer games on his PDA in class. Again.

So, naturally, she was stuck with the only other person from their group that had bothered to show up that day. Surprisingly, it wasn't Danny. It was Kai.

Danny hadn't put in an appearance all morning. It wasn't like him to ditch for no reason, and if there were ghosts around… he would have told her and Tucker, right? Come to think of it, Sam hadn't seen Danny use his ghost powers since Monday. He hadn't even flown home after their study session! There was defiantly something up, and she was going to find out what.

Sighing, she sat down across from Kai. Friend of Tucker or no, there was a certain quality about the new kid that was off-putting. Also, she was spending altogether too much time with Danny.

"Hey," Kai said, looking suspicious. She knew that there was no love lost between them; what she figured was going on was a mystery.

"Where's your bag of burgers?" Sam asked, trying to keep up a semblance of polite conversation. If she was going to get any information, it probably wouldn't hurt to be nice.

Kai, who had opted for school lunch, grimaced at the tray of slop. "I decided to come on time today, so I didn't hit Nasty Burger on the way here. I'm starting to regret that; cold fast food may taste slightly worse than soggy cardboard, but at least it's better than this."

"Yeah, the school food is horrible."

"You're telling me. I'm not sure if this even qualifies as food." She prodded her salad with a plastic spork. Sam swore she saw the lettuce move. "Somebody should call the FDA on your lunch lady. This must be cruelty to children or something."

"How was the food in Ontario?"

The new kid looked startled. "Where now? Oh… right… it was better than this, but still to be avoided. I usually brought pizza."

This was unquestionably suspect, but Sam let it pass. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? Where's Danny?"

Kai raised an eyebrow, and took a bite of her chicken sandwich. She instantly spit it out again, looking disgusted and vaguely stunned. "Fate's sakes! Any minute now Ashton Kucher is going to jump out from behind a door to tell me I've been punked."

"Yes, yes, it's awful already! What about Danny!" Sam shouted, exasperated.

There was a sigh. "I haven't seen him. It's troubling, to be sure. What with everything…" A fair amount of distress registered on her face, and her eyes glazed over. Even Sam knew what this meant.

"You like him, don't you?"

"Oh, he's a fine guy, sure."

"I meant _like him _like him." Perhaps Canadian exchange students didn't understand basic concepts?

"What? Heck no! Actually… I was just thinking about an old friend of mine. But that isn't the point." She paused. "Look, I don't know where he is. I don't suppose there's a chance he told you… I mean, you're his best friend…"

It was Sam's turn to be shocked. "You know? About his powers?"

"Um… yeah," Kai looked flustered. "That's what I meant. Totally. Later then? Great. Good luck finding Danny!" Like that, she was gone. Nobody saw her the rest of the day.

---

_Much later…_

The she-wolf sat herself on a park bench, and waited. All of Wednesday had passed without fanfare except for one thing: Danny hadn't been to school. For all she knew, he hadn't left the house.

The clouds had dissipated, and the night was clear and cold. The now leafless trees, gnarled and naked looking, blew about in the bitter wind. There was a soft whistling noise, and the she-wolf darted beneath her bench. She knew that noise. Any minute, Drake would show up.

The black wolf, fur gleaming in the lamplight, strode obliviously on, through the manicured lawns and cobbled walkways of the park. The sound came again, more like a shadow, or an echo of music than something real. It was hard to pin it down. It was almost nonexistent. "So it's decided, then?" He growled, apparently to no one in particular. "You'll help?"

A sarcastic sounding voice that was somehow disconcertingly familiar drifted like soft snowflakes over the park, where it's every word lingered in the empty space for a few seconds too long. "Oh, yes. Of course. Ask the ghost with no influence for help. That's real effective."

Drake bristled. "Don't get snippy with me! You've no idea who you're dealing with!"

"On the contrary," the voice sneered, "I know more than you would like to think. You are responsible for my exile. Why should I come to your aid." It was a statement, not a question. The air took on a flat, stale quality.

"Very well. I see how this is going to be. I'll take my business elsewhere."

"So we're done here?"

"Very much so, yes." A heavy mantle was lifted from the general vicinity of where Drake and the she-wolf were sitting, and the apparition was gone.

"You are such a hypocrite, Drake," the she-wolf snarled, stalking over to him. "You tell me not to meddle, but here you are doing just that! I ask of you: where is your sense of decency?"

Drake granted her a rather bored look. "I expect it went off to die somewhere a while back. Besides, I'm only finishing what I started."

Her eyes narrowed. Her tail puffed up and thrashed about, menacingly. "What happened to you, Drake? You used to be a real nice guy! You used to know what love means."

He smirked. "So that's it, eh? You intend to show this boy the meaning of 'true love'? What a silly concept. At best, all that ever exists is lust. He… has no chance with that girl. He deserves someone as ruthless and power-hungry as he is."

"How do you know what he's like? How have you got any idea what feelings lay buried in his heart?"

"Common sense, love. Anyone can see it. You just have to look closely enough."

---

He felt like death. Everything was slowly unraveling. The once lush tapestry of his mind had been reduced to several miss-matched threads and a sowing needle. Ideas had a hard time penetrating the thick walls of his skull.

He passed the day by sitting in a clump of bushes, curled up in a ball. Thoughts and images pushed through his head, rampaging and plundering the halls of what had once been 'conventional wisdom', and 'dreams'.

There were times when he was nearly human, and times when he was still fully Danny Fenton, unsung hero of Amity Park. This was one of those times.

Shivering despite feeling overheated, he picked himself up and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes. He left the park, never noticing the debating wolves so close to him. Details, even glaringly obvious ones, were beginning to get lost in the sauce. Everything blurred together, as if the world were a huge, badly developed photograph.

"Danny! Danny Fenton! Over here!" Someone was calling his name. Someone… Sam! He couldn't see her like this. He couldn't. He'd end up hurting her, or worse. He tried to ignore her, to walk away, but she started walking up to him. He was frightened, for her and himself. "There you are! Why weren't you at school? Even Kai showed up on time! Your parents are ballistic about you cutting class by the way."

"Get away!" He hissed, spinning around. His teeth were bared inadvertently, and he was half stooped over. "Leave me alone!"

She backed up a few paces, scared and angry. "Well if that's how you're going to be, I will! Jeez, Danny, I was just trying to help." All the wolfishness melted off in a stream of clarity. If the bite had been poison, Sam was the antidote. Danny felt awful, and tried to make it up.

Taking a few steps towards her, he realized his mistake. He couldn't live without her. "No, wait!" He cried pleadingly, extending an arm out to her. She pulled away, but he grabbed her arm and gathered her into a hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not letting go. "I've been having some trouble lately. I… don't know what to do, and I lashed out at you. I really am sorry."

Sam patted his back nervously. "That's fine, Danny. Tell you what, let's go to Nasty Burger and get something to eat. You can explain it to me there."

"What about Tucker?"

"He's at his house assembling a new mail-order computer he got. Besides, when was the last time we had a Tucker-free meal?"

Danny smiled, releasing her. "Good point. Lead the way, Madame."

The two disappeared into dark folds of the night, unaware that they were being observed by the curious werewolves. Destiny has a way of doing that. It'll let you believe everything's fine until the last devastating second when it's too late.

By then, of course, there's nothing left to be done.

---

As promised before, a preview. Everything in italics is preview, and will be included somehow in part six. Dialogue and other things subject to change at my whim.

_Not wishing to tear apart his clothing as he was having urges to do, he carefully stripped and folded the articles, tucking them safely behind the toilet._

_Danny lay down on the cold bathroom floor, his stomach churning. This was it. This was the transformation. He only hoped it wouldn't hurt that much._

_His back was to the ground, and he could feel the vibrations caused by the feet of many people hitting the earth. For a second, he felt in tune with everything; nature, the universe, the whole package._

_Then, it began._

_It started as a gentle twitching, a careless flicking of one finger, and became more and more as twitching gave way to spasmodic contractions of his muscles and bones. His flesh felt like it was boiling, moving and twisting, writhing and dancing under his skin. And then, as suddenly as it started, it all stopped and Danny lay at rest on the floor, his heart beating fast and his breath coming in long, ragged gasps._

_And then he Changed._


	6. Of Fate and the Forsaken

Here is the long-awaited transformation of Danny Fenton into the werewolf. I didn't spoil any plot points, because this should have been obvious after the preview last chapter. How it happens, and what goes on after he turns into the wolf are the major issues here. Oh, and because I felt guilty about not putting it in before, there is some stuff that could be construed as mild fluff in this chapter. Sort of. I like reading fluff, but for some reason I just can't write it. But I'm trying, I really am. It will get much more prominent in the story line in the last couple of chapters, which I now actually have plotted out. Enjoy!

Warnings/Disclaimers: I own no part of this except my own wacky plots. Danny Phantom is Butch Hartman's show, not mine. Though I probably wouldn't have let them cancel it if it were mine… Save the phantom!

---

Fate is, in general, not cruel. That is to say, half of him is not cruel. In fact, half of him is a happy, smiling idiot who reads sappy romance novels while eating centuries-old Ben and Jerry's ice cream and half-listening to Sex and the City. He thinks no one knows that.

Then, there is the other half, the half we are concerning ourselves with now. If Fate were one person, a casual observer of his behavior might find him to be suffering from a greater case of bipolar disease than two oppositely charged magnates stuck together with Gorilla Glue and placed between slabs of iron.

The other half sat on a cold steel bench in his garden. Part of it was poking him in a way that he hoped was simply because he had shifted positions, and not because, say, it had developed a consciousness and was giving serious thought to the opportunities presented by tipping him into the fish pond that seemed to be getting closer every time he looked.

Indeed, this would not have surprised him. The whole garden, belonging to the sinister half of Fate and therefore by definition being rather spooky, had a tendency to, to put it delicately, move around a lot. The trees rustled in a total absence of wind. The benches, especially the one upon which he was sitting, liked to scuttle around on their ornate sixteenth-century gothic legs when they thought no one was watching. The cobbled pathways, looking like something you might have found in one of the darker Dickens novels, crept along like a conveyor belt, which could be quite handy when you didn't feel like walking. Then again, if you stayed long enough in this particular garden, you wouldn't be _able_ to walk.

Brother Bartholomew, still in his amethyst, all-encompassing cloak, sat on the bench. The fish pond went_ glorp_. Somewhere, there was a very loud, if brief, squawk before it was abruptly cut off. Somewhere, something was enjoying a meal of crow, probably raw. But you never could be entirely sure.

The sky, black and endless, stretched away into the far distance with nary a star to tarnish the fine grain of dark it had achieved. The only thing that occupied such a blank, eternal slate was the golden globular disk of the moon. Bartholomew smiled, a rare occurrence. He had made cultures worship the moon. He had made a select few suffer- and, to tell the truth, experience a state of such sublime euphoria that the Gods themselves trembled with jealousy –over its mere presence. And there it was, lighting his home. He was master of all he saw, for he had almost certainly twisted the tedious march of history to bring it into being.

The grin evaporated. An icy chill passed over him. The pond went _glorp_, but it did so with a purpose and sense of urgency. He shuddered in rage. Drakkus Bacchus, the renegade Messenger of Fate who had deflected to the other team at halftime, as it were, had taken it too far. Bartholomew had no qualms with pain and misery (as long as the people it happened to weren't him) but those were things that could be fixed given a little time and some elbow grease. They had no practical applications. Drake intended to end the game on a penalty foul, which, besides being nearly impossible, would spoil the event for everyone involved.

His eyes narrowed as he felt the bench tip to the right a few inches, intending to unload its unpleasant cargo. Bartholomew grabbed an armrest and held on with a grip like that of a world-class wrestler. The metal bent and warped. "Bench?" he hissed, his voice radiating clam vehemence. "If you dare get even one drop of that disgusting… muck on my person, you will suffer a slow and never-ending torturous death." There was no more discussion. The bench went back to pretending to be a normal bench.

Bartholomew settled back, a bag of caramel corn appearing in his hand. If it was trouble Drake wanted, then trouble he would get. Just as soon as the situation stopped being funny.

---

Danny Fenton walked down the street, rather more jauntily than was entirely necessary. He had a date! A date with the most beautiful girl in the world and- wait. Back up a minute. Where did _that _come from? It was not a date, and he certainly didn't like her in that way….

As you can see, having part of you soul warped into a wolf doesn't heighten your awareness of the world in general much. Because of this, Danny remained as clueless as ever while being simultaneously elated at where this was going. Strange, no?

The neon Nasty Burger sign appeared in his line of sight only when Sam grabbed his arm and steered him towards it. He hadn't really been looking where he was going, given recent circumstances that he would much rather have avoided (namely being eviscerated by a not-very-sane werewolf in a park). "Honestly," Sam said, worry evident in her voice, "I don't know what's gotten into you today. You're not usually this cut off from the world."

Danny shrugged, enjoying being out in the night. The moon was alternating between shining and hiding itself behind a cloud. Currently, it was tucked well away which was good because even a single moonbeam was enough to make him lapse back into the nausea and cold sweat of the sickness. "I… it's a long story. There's a lot to it and… in all honesty I probably should have told you sooner. I just… I didn't know what was going on. I sort of still don't. But I guess I owe it to you. You deserve to know."

There wasn't much else to talk about. In a daze, part of him still thinking that this was all a very nice dream and any minute he'd wake up in a bush somewhere, he strode up to the counter and ordered his meal. Sam gave him a look when he took his tray filled with nearly a dozen burgers, but he shrugged it off. Being a werewolf gave you odd hankerings for meat, which he knew he'd never liked _this_ much before.

He scarfed the meal with amazing agility and swiftness, causing the meal to disappear down his gullet faster than a magician magic-ing it away. When he had finished, Sam said, with an air of wariness and foreboding, "So, what's up?"

Danny gulped and opened his mouth to begin, but was wracked with another bout of stinging agony, which caused him to double up in sickness. The invisible tail thrashed wildly. His eyes threatened to roll back in his head. Somehow, he managed to hide all this. "I… I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be tight back." Going as fast as he dared, Danny raced madly over to the men's room, feet skidding unnaturally on the slick tiled floor.

Thankfully, the room was empty and the first stall had a forbidding 'out of order' note taped to the door. He ran into the out of order stall, slamming the door so hard that the rusted-out hinges creaked angrily and threatened to give out. He locked the stall, not wishing to be walked in upon by some malcontent who couldn't comprehend the simplicity of the sign.

Having seen a few monster movies in his time, and not wishing to tear apart his clothing as people in this position are wont to do, he carefully stripped and folded the offending articles, tucking them safely behind the toilet.

Danny lay down on the freezing bathroom floor, his stomach churning. This was it. This was the transformation. He only hoped it wouldn't hurt that much. Then again, there wasn't much chance of that. Perhaps he would black-out before the worst of it?

His back was to the ground, and he could feel the vibrations caused by the feet of many people hitting the earth. For a second, he felt in tune with everything; nature, the universe, the whole package. It was a Zen feeling, though he didn't have a very good understanding of what Zen was.

Then, it began.

It started as a gentle twitching, a careless flicking of one finger, and became more and more as twitching gave way to spasmodic contractions of his muscles and bones. His flesh felt like it was boiling, moving and twisting, writhing and dancing under his skin. And then, as suddenly as it started, it all stopped and Danny lay at rest on the floor, his heart beating fast and his breath coming in long, ragged gasps.

And then he Changed.

---

The Wolf was awake. He had never, technically, gone to sleep, but that didn't add up to much in his one track mind. In a dark corner of said brain, a tiny voice was shouting about remembering sense, remembering who he truly was. But this was largely ignored by the Wolf, as it was dwarfed by the roaring, roiling sea of pure anger and hatred that filled up the spaces of the beast's soul.

The Wolf howled. Somewhere in the ripple of terrifying sound was a scream. He was confused. Why was he in this enclosed space? He wanted to rip, to tear, to devour. He could smell and feel a world outside, and he wanted to be a part of it.

He did all he knew to do. He lunged, hitting the door with the power and energy of a small missile. It flew off the hinges, slamming down onto the floor. Several snow-white tiles shattered into shards sharp enough to be considered daggers in the right hands. The door had been blasted straight outward, and lay without even a slight angle on the tiles that had not broken. The battered and dented metal groaned as the Wolf stalked off of it.

The Wolf looked up, his mind following a few steps behind his gaze. He growled, deep and guttural, fangs bared. There was another wolf there! It was showing him its teeth! This had to be rectified immediately. A few seconds later, bits of smashed mirror were spiraling down to earth. The Wolf whined, sucking on his right paw where a large piece of glass had lodged itself. He pulled the offending item out, and the flesh healed up.

As if nothing had happened, the Wolf hit another door. People shouted. He grinned. Shouting people meant food.

_Food_, said his wolfish thoughts.

_Sam!_ Shouted Danny.

---

Sam was really getting worried now. This was beyond normal unsettlement over her best friend, this was more. Something serious was going on, and she wanted to know what.

A woman screamed, high and shrilly. Sam craned her neck to see what was happening. A large creature stomped out of the bathroom, a trickle of blood dripping out of its maw. _Danny!_ Her inner thoughts cried. He had been in there! Was he hurt? Where had the wolf come from, anyway?

She got up to go and find him, but was caught in a surging wave of humanity headed for the door. She was screaming bloody murder, but this was nothing new. Half the Nasty Burger patrons were doing just that.

Out on the street, which was already decorated for the coming weekend's festivities, Sam contrived to escape the mob, finding a spot off to the side in which to watch for Danny. It didn't seem to matter that she was standing in the middle of the street. A large crowd was doing just that, and no one seemed to be dead yet.

The wolf charged out of the restaurant, and into the road. Its fur, she noticed was pure white. It was the largest of its kind she'd ever seen. The thing was absolutely massive, almost the size of a car, with bulging muscles and steely claws… and piercing green eyes that stared, if only for a second, into the deepest depths of her soul.

---

Kai sat on the roof of a nearby building, watching the ensuing debacle which edged ever closer to becoming an all-out disaster. So far, she had observed no casualties other than the regrettable death of Danny's common sense, but there was still time. There was a panicked shout and a spray of sparks as a street lamp was uprooted and flung down the street. Amazing what you could do with strong jaws.

Her perked ears picked up the click of claws on brick. It was an old building, with a flat roof and an alley beside it. Just the sort of haunt that Drake would like. The advancing figure turned out to be him. This came as no huge surprise.

"Enjoying the show?" the raven-furred wolf asked innocently, sitting down next to her. The wind seemed to blow fiercer in that instant.

"You know I'm not." She licked her front right paw, and drew it over her ears.

"You," Drake snarled, "are a disgrace to wolfery. Only cats do that."

"Yeah?" she didn't seem interested. "Well, maybe I'm part feline. Leave me alone."

Drake ignored her. Ignoring people was a practiced art among werewolves. "See? See now? I have won. My protégé is wreaking havoc as we speak!" There was a cracking noise as the pavement below was torn in two, leaving a long furrow where the street divider should have been.

"So? That doesn't give you the right to automatically declare yourself the victor."

"Ridiculous! I have given Pandora her… I mean his box, and now he has opened it. The world shall never be the same."

Kai paused in her washing to give him a withering look. The effect was quite ruined by the fact that she had to duck half a car that was thrown her way by the rampaging wolf below. "You reference the legend of Pandora. Have you ever even heard it before?" The scathing look he shot back was proof enough that the research hadn't been done. "Had you paid closer attention to your metaphors, you might have made a point. As it is, you have proved nothing. Shall I explain why?"

"Do tell," Drake hissed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Pandora, the first woman- this alone makes you sound like a fool, by the way –was given a box by the Gods, and told never to open it. Since one of her great gifts was curiosity, she naturally disrespected them and opened it. The tale goes that, in punishment for her insubordination, she unwittingly released all the perils we encounter today. Death, sickness, plague, famine, all that malarkey."

"Sounds good to me," Drake snapped, irate at being called a fool and having his time wasted.

"It's not. Because you see, when all the horrible things had flown out, another came too. One that eased the pain and made life bearable again."

"I'll play along. What was it?"

Kai stared hard at him for a minute before answering. "The last thing," she said, fixating on his rotten face, "was hope."

Then she left him, jumping down into the alley. He had interfered plenty. It was time to fix this mess.

---

The Wolf had found his way to the park oblivious of the girl, clad in black clothing darker than the darkest midnight that was following him. The park was too content, he decided. He was about to ravish an wooden bench, doubtlessly accumulating a few more splinters in the process, when he felt something stab into his shoulder, and everything went black

---

"There!" Sam heard the second wolf reply. Or thought she did. It was a wolf, after all. It couldn't talk. She hoped it couldn't talk. It proved her wrong. "I hate to do this to the poor guy, but it's the only way." Sam observed the wolf pull a knife out of the white one's side. It glinted silver in the moonlight.

She gasped. Before her eyes, the colossal white wolf warped, changing form. Then, suddenly, the creature was gone. In its place lay, to her unending shock, Danny. She blushed when she noticed that his clothes were gone; how could he have kept them on? No wolf can run around in jeans.

The other wolf maneuvered him so that at least he had underwear on, and turned to stare at Sam. "You can come over, you know," the wolf called. "He's your friend, after all."

Sam went over, looking at the wolf. It was a suspicious creature, but then again, she had spent months chasing ghosts with Danny. 'Weird' now had a completely new definition. "Who are you?" she asked, not taking her eyes off her fallen friend. "What did you do to him? What's going on? What's wrong with him?" The shoulder wound was bleeding profusely, the scarlet blood pooling around him and sinking into the ground.

The wolf looked thoughtful. "Okay, in order: What's it to you; lots of things, but most recently I stopped him from continuing a destructive rampage; honestly, I have no idea; and he got stabbed with a silver knife. It turned him back, but I should think we should do something before he bleeds out." She continued to sit there, not doing anything.

After a strained minute, Sam growled, "Well?"

"Hmm?"

"What do we do?"

"Ah, yes. Bit of a sticky situation. I've got a cure… but, alas. No opposable thumbs."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Give it to me! I'll do it!"

The wolf shrugged, and trotted a few paces away, to where she had deposited a burlap sack. She shook it with her mouth, and a small lilac colored bottle of something horrible looking rolled out. The wolf prodded it with her nose. "Rub this over the wound; it'll stop the bleeding."

Sam took the bottle, uncapped it, and tipped some of the contents into one hand. She wasn't saying it wasn't a good thing to massage the shoulders of her friend and secret crush; just that it would have been better if he wasn't in a semi-coma. The ragged, torn flesh felt odd under her hands. When she was done, the wolf gingerly laid a gauze pad over the wound where, due to the blood and treatment, stuck fast.

"Now what?" Sam asked, lost. She had bandaged Danny on many occasions; this was new ground to her.

The wolf thought. "We take him home." Fine. That, she could deal with. "But first, you should get him dressed." The wolf shoved a neatly folded pile of clothes towards her.

Oh, no. That wasn't happening. Sam's face went five different shades of red, and one of maroon. "Can't you do that?"

The wolf raised an eyebrow, which Sam would have sworn was impossible. "Hello? What did I just say about the thumbs?"

Five very embarrassing minutes later, Danny was slung across her shoulder and they were progressing rapidly towards Danny's house. It wasn't hard to find. The Fenton Works sign made it both a local landmark, and very noticeable. Sam was about to ring the doorbell, when the wolf gave her a tiny nip on the leg. "Are you crazy?" the beast snarled, pushing the door open with her nose. "It's late they're asleep. Let's keep it that way."

Getting Danny up the stairs to his room was a challenge, but not out of the realms of the possible. In the end it was done, and Sam tucked him into bed while the wolf found some paper and a pencil. Sam stared at her. The pencil, and #2 Ticonderoga, was clasped in the wolf's mouth and seemed to be tracing words over the sheet. "What's that for?" she asked, remembering to keep her voice down.

"'S a spell, see?" the wolf said through a mouthful of pencil. "When his parents read it, it'll create a false memory of whatever happened tonight. Danny'll, to their minds, have been at school when appropriate and home before midnight. I can draw one up for your parents if you want." Sam looked at the clock, which snidely confirmed that it had now been Thursday for thirty minutes.

"That may not be a bad idea. Knowing my parents, they'll have a conniption fit if they find out I was with Danny at all, let alone this late."

The wolf nodded knowingly. "Don't worry," she said, answering the question that had been kicking around in Sam's skull for several minutes but to no one's knowledge had been asked. "Danny didn't tell you because he was scared, and didn't know what was going on. He was going to tell you before… the episode."

"I hope so," Sam muttered, staring absently out the window. "For the sake of our friendship, I hope so."

---

Whew! This took me most of a Vikings football game to finish, which is just as well when my Dad makes me watch the entire frickin' thing. I like football, but not three consecutive hours of it during pre-season when it doesn't even count. More to come! And more dialogue in the next one, too. Will Sam confront Danny about the werewolf thing? Will Drake succeed in turning Danny evil? Will I ever learn to write something sane? All this and possibly more to be answered… some time in the future. And more romance later, too.


	7. Clues and the Clueless

Ta-dah! Chapter seven, yo! Just so you all know, since I start school next week, updates may be even slower in coming. Sorry. High School's a killer.

Warnings/Disclaimers: I do not own Danny phantom. I will never own Danny Phantom. I do, however, own a T-shirt with his logo on it.

Before I forget again: I owe this chapter and the previous one to my non-fanfiction-oriented friend Frankie the Cat for going over it and making sure it wasn't too horrible. Thanks, Frankie.

---

Destiny is not rigid and unchanging. As those who are closest to the subject know, true fate is as unpredictable as the weather. All one can do is hope to subtly influence it, and even that is bound to go wrong.

"It's like chaos theory," Kai could recall Antigoras saying to her once, the misty moonlit memories drifting back to her. There's probably a metaphor for that, too, but she couldn't be bothered to find it. "If a butterfly does so much as flap its wings, you can end up with a violent and deadly hurricane in the gulf coast." Because it was the good half of Fate she'd been dealing with, he'd added, "Now, who wants a cookie?"

Kai knew this instinctively. Among the other things she knew were: The cosmos is not ineffable, Danny Fenton is quite possibly the most clueless person on the face of the planet, and tapioca pudding is almost certainly an invention of Satan.

I never said she was sane, did I?

---

Antigoras the Good was, to be honest, a little naïve. It was a point his counterpart and friend Brother Bartholomew had spent hours beating to death with his rants, and he was glad to have provided his comrade with a source of entertainment. He was a good soul, as it was said, and a bit sappy.

He sat in the pantry of his small hovel, which doubled as a kitchen, bedroom, and storehouse. The bathroom was the only part of the living space not in the pantry, actually. It was only currently said place because he was cooking lunch.

To Antigoras, lunch always consisted of raspberry scones and poppy seed tea for the simple reason that he'd never taught himself to make anything else. He could have had a servant run to the store for something, supposedly, but the only one he currently possessed was on another errand. Besides, he disapproved of servants on moral grounds, another subject on which Bartholomew often pontificated upon. How, the other fate asked, could one get anything done by himself?

Antigoras had elected not to answer this.

The rusting metal sink was filled to the brim with unwashed dishes, but Antigoras was not giving up. After some deliberation and careful scrutiny of the piles, he managed to extract a cup, a saucer, and the burnished brass kettle, which had perched itself on top of the stack.

The blue pilot light of the stove flickered and went out the instant he placed the kettle over it, causing him to mutter harmless curses under his breath and kick the appliance's side. He sighed, and poured some water into the pot. A few seconds later, the flame guttered back into life and began boiling his tea.

The better side of Fate settled down into his chair, and looked out the window. He had, against the words of his acquaintances, knitted his own draperies. His rather lumpy style of weaving made it hard to see, but that didn't matter.

Antigoras's brow furrowed for the first time in years. The sky outside, which had been reliably sunny and clear every day for centuries, had inexplicably clouded over with roiling, rolling purple thunderheads. "Oh, _no_," he whined, the words having to work hard at coming out of his mouth. "Not this. Not now!"

The kettle let out a piercing scream. On the table, cups and plates rattled ominously as the crooked structure shook in anticipation of the event to come and the ground heaved below his boots. "Bother it all," he muttered, extracting another goblet, a golden jewel-encrusted chalice from the sink. The earthquake continued, shaking loose some of the crockery. It smashed to pieces on the floorboards.

He removed the kettle from its burner, and poured two glasses of tea. He hesitated when it came to scones, but decided that his friend was probably not big on pastry. Antigoras located and pulled on his best white dress cloak, tying it with the ceremonial cord girdle he'd received for the commemoration of his three-thousandth birthday.

Picking up the tea, he stood silently in the middle of the living room-come-kitchen, his eyes closed in quiet concentration. A moment later, a blinding flash of neon blue light eclipsed the space, and when it cleared, he had gone.

---

There is a place, somewhere, where there are no werewolves, or ghosts, or matters pertaining to the physical incarnation of Fate. Amity Park is not that place. Amity Park is nowhere near to being that place.

Sam knew that, had been exposed to it for a long time, but still could not get over the shock of seeing Danny de-transform the night before. Her dreams had been filled with images of him- her best friend and secret crush –sprouting fangs and claws and pointed ears, his face twisted in a terrible mask of unexplained rage and hatred. They were horrible memories that would doubtlessly haunt her for years to come.

What had happened to him? The Danny she knew would never do what the monster had done. Though the townspeople despised him for his efforts, the Phantom had worked tirelessly against those who would do them harm. He often grew fed up with it, but he was kind at heart and wouldn't dream of adding to the senseless chaos like that.

She shuddered and pulled the sheets up over her head when her impeccably cheery mother ripped open the curtains, letting in a stabbing ray of light. "Time to get up, Sammy!" Mrs. Manson exclaimed. "You'll be late for school!

Sam waited until she had left before getting up. Morning was not something she particularly enjoyed, and this particular day was worse. She did not foresee anything good coming of Danny's transformation.

Why had he kept it from her and Tucker? Hadn't he been able to tell they could help? Had those months of ghost fighting meant nothing to him? Perhaps, as the other wolf had suggested, he had been scared. But that made little sense; she'd never seen Danny Fenton scared in her whole life.

Then again, the prospect of turning into a ferocious creature could do it. Fear was a very personal thing. What scared one person might be treated as normal to another. And if that thing that had taken him over had also been messing with his mind…

Not bothering to speak to her parents, she left without breakfast. Walking down the street, she could see clearly the destruction caused by the wolf rampage the previous night. The pavement was torn up for blocks, and sanitation crews were still hauling away broken street lamps. A police officer was busy writing out a parking ticket for the owner of half a car that lay mangled in the roadway.

In the corner of her vision, something stirred. She might have missed it if she hadn't had wolves on the brain, but there it was, the wolf from the last night. Trying not to make any noise, she followed it. She had some questions for it… but wasn't entirely sure it wouldn't attack her.

The wolf looked shiftily around it, and darted into an alley, its tail fluffed out in anxiety. Sam noticed that it was in pain, a ghastly grimace evident upon its pointed muzzle. There was definitely something suspicious about this, she thought, as she crept after it. She stopped at the mouth of the alley, and peered around the corner at the shadowy passage.

The wolf stopped and, with a short yelp of anguish… changed. It was terrible to watch, the skin snapping taut as the skeleton broke and healed again. The wolf seemed to be concentrating very hard and its body shuddered madly, stopping the transformation. It was now caught somewhere between animal and human. It was still covered in fur, and the head was wolfish, but it stood on two legs like a person.

The werewolf- for, of course, that's what it must have been –straightened as far up as she could manage, and dug a familiar sack out from where it was wedged behind a trashcan. "Bloody hellfire," she hissed, pulling on a pair of jeans, "I hate it when the transformation doesn't happen until after sunrise." After dressing, she took a deep, steadying breath, and screwed her eyes tightly shut once more.

A wave of power swept through the space, emanating from the wolf. It was like blast of hot wind, which rattled the garbage lids and chipped a few of the adjacent buildings' bricks as it hit. When it had gone, a new figure stood in the dirty alleyway, one that looked oddly familiar.

Kai caught sight of Sam, and shot her a sheepish grin. "G'day, mate. Not late for class, are we?"

---

The dreams were worse, now. Well, not worse exactly (they were actually rather good) but with every night they got stronger and stronger until… He swore it had felt real. It was like reality, but with deliberate flaws. They seemed to exist simply to erase the memories of the night.

The dreams were always the same. He would scene deleted for explicit content even though he knew it could happen, and then she would scene deleted for even explicit-er content. The odd thing was that instead of his usual objects of desire, the dreams always seemed to involve… Sam. Which was ridiculous. Nobody could be in love with their best friend! It would screw up everything.

For some reason, this thought was extremely depressing.

Fragments of his activities in hours previous floated back, and he relished them. He had gone out with Sam… alone. No Tucker, just the two of them. His eyes snapped open as two things came rushing back to him: The memory of his transformation and the stabbing pain in his shoulder. He could recall nothing beyond the knife sinking into his shoulder, wielded by another wolf that smelled recognizable.

It was peculiar, really, identifying others by smell, but it was what wolves did. With a sinking feeling, he noted that more and more of the wolf's instincts were creeping into his daily life. The world was suddenly a fresh new place full of new senses and ideas. And… power. It lay below the surface, waiting for moonrise to emerge.

Fear gripped him, along with a stiffness that came from his wound. Silver was poison to his kind (the thought of it being his kind was also very disturbing), and it was flowing through his veins like molten lead. The fear pulsated within the confines of his increasingly unstable nervous system, telling him that he couldn't live like this. He would hurt someone. He could have hurt Sam last night and if he did that… dear God, he wouldn't be able to handle the pain.

Somewhere in the fog of uncertainty, an alarm bell rang. Actually, it was only his alarm clock. A few seconds later, Danny dragged himself out of bed and added 'buy new clock' onto his mental to-do list.

Great. He'd slept in his clothes again. How did this keep happening? He could have sworn he'd left them in the bathroom.

Getting dressed, he realized that even though he was in pain, it was a different kind of pain. Over the last few days, he'd felt vaguely drunk and sick. Now it was the stab would and its after effects controlling him. Did this mean that the curse was over or just entering a new phase? He couldn't be sure.

He left without breakfast, despite the raging hunger that clawed rabidly at his empty stomach, which stuck tightly to his spine. He was late again, and after ditching the day before, he doubted his ability to get away with any more. Lunch time was only a few hours away, after all.

Running was easier than it had been before. So used was he to flying that he'd forgotten entirely how good it felt to use his muscles, to feel the earth speed away below his pounding feet. Perhaps this too was an effect of the curse, but a new and troubling idea crept into his head: was it possible that the wolf inside him was simply awakening his hidden desires? If that was true, then there was a part of him that wanted to kill things, to tear the world apart in desperation. For what the wolf had wanted, deep down inside, was to… destroy everything. It was a horrible prospect.

Casper High loomed ahead, its towering brick façade representing everything the wolf in him hated: confinement, entrapment, and establishment. It was getting out of control, this wolf thing. He couldn't live with it. It wasn't going to work. And if it was, there were some more questions he had for Kai.

"Danny! Hey!" In his haze, he almost ran right past Tucker who called out to him.

"Oh, hey Tuck," he gasped, stopping. It was amazing how winded exercise could make you. "Have you seen your pen pal today?"

Tucker looked confused. "What? Oh, Kai. No, I haven't seen her or Sam today. I thought at least Sam would come with you."

Danny's stomach turned over. What if he'd done something he couldn't remember the night before? What if he'd hurt Sam? And what if it was too late?

---

"I can't believe this!" Sam exclaimed, staring at Kai, who seemed to want nothing more than to be able to back through a wall. "When Danny finds out, he'll-"

"He'll what? Besides, I saved his furry behind last night. He's not like me, Sam. He can't control it. Leave him alone like that too long and he'll destroy anything in his path."

"You can't be serious! This is Danny we're talking about. I know him! He'd never-"

"You're kidding yourself," Kai hissed, taking a step forward. "This isn't like the Phantom. This isn't something easy. This is an animal."

"Why didn't you tell us? We've got experience with supernatural stuff like this!"

"It's not your problem! I don't care if Danny has experience with ghosts and even that Wulf; this isn't any business of yours. Beyond that, nobody's even supposed to know about me."

"Why not?"

Kai eyed her suspiciously, then sighed. "There's no use in hiding it. Look, I'm not an ordinary werewolf. In fact there are very few conventional werewolves. I am a Messenger of Fate. We… subtly influence events on Earth so that the future comes out one way or another… but it's all going wrong. Things have to be carefully calculated before action can be taken, and that didn't happen this time."

"How so?"

"I can't talk about that right now. All I can say is that one of our number is behaving in a quite terrible manner."

Sam was mystified. This was all going way over her head. "Look," Kai went on, interrupting her thoughts, "if we don't get going we'll be late. None of this is your concern, anyway."

"Are you kidding me?" She had done it now; this wolf had gone too far. "He's my best friend!"

"Is that _all_?" Kai smirked. You could just feel the innuendo. "Really? If you say so." She shouldered her bag and sauntered off in the general direction of school.

Sam simmered in her anger. Kai still rubbed her the wrong way, even after any service she might have done for Danny. After a moment, she followed. This was going to end badly, she could tell.

---

Lunch hour again. Danny observed in silent fascination the eating habits of the world's leading expert on werewolves. Today's meal of choice was two foot-long subway sandwiches, minus anything with any sort of health content. He kept trying to catch her eye, but she was deliberately avoiding his gaze. Strangely enough, through the whole thing, Sam stared holes in the back of his head.

Something was really beginning to bother him. Over the course of the day, he had decided to stop fighting it. He was in love, or at least in 'like'. And, unfortunately, it was with his best friend. It made him want to smack his head into the wall but, having tried that option, decided that he was never doing that again.

That wasn't the real problem, though. No, the thing that plagued him so was the appearance, rather behind schedule, of a modest flyer that had been posted on Wednesday. Though, of course, he hadn't been there the day it had gone up, the entire school was abuzz with chatter about the event it represented: a Halloween masquerade dance to be hosted on Saturday night.

If only… but there was no way he could ask Sam to go. It would spoil their friendship. Was that worth it to him? If they were only friends, at least he would still be able to see her and talk to her.

Kai's temporary locker was next to his, which was convenient. It made it easy to corner her. "Kai?" he asked tentatively, beginning his latest volley of questions.

"Hey Danny," She said, rather hurriedly. "Look, this had better be real important or-"

"It's about… the thing."

Her eyes darkened. "You mean werewolves?"

"Yes. Us. I mean them."

She looked at him guardedly. "What about them?"

Danny turned his gaze away. "Um… this may seem like a weird thing to ask, but… can werewolves fall in love?"

She laughed in relief. "Bless your heart, Dan, of course they can. Remember, werewolves are regular people most of the time."

"But could being one… alter your feelings for someone?"

"No. What it does is bring out buried feelings." Kai glared at him hard. "It finds hidden emotions and makes them… not hidden. It does not, let me repeat, _does not_ change them. It lets you know they're there, and nags you about doing something about them. But the strength of the emotions is all you, man." She sighed. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

Danny faltered. "Ah… well, I was thinking of inviting somebody to the dance… but it's ridiculous. She doesn't like me anyway."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter," Danny muttered.

"Oh. Sam. Why didn't you just say so?"

"That's crazy!" He said, blushing profusely. "We're not lovebirds!"

"I never said you were," she replied coolly.

"Look, I don't like Sam, okay? Drop it!" Honesty, he had long decided, is not the best policy in matters of the heart.

She gave him a pitying glance. "Oh, Danny," she sighed, "you're so clueless."

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. You're so clueless that if you were an investigative reporter, it would take you five weeks to write a report on what you ate for breakfast this morning."

"Ha, ha," Danny scoffed, intending to be sarcastic. "Hilarious. You're a laugh riot."

"You like that? I've got more. You're so clueless, you couldn't win a game of Clue if you were cheating _and_ playing against yourself."

"Seriously. Stop it." Luckily for him, Sam walked up to them, aiming a glare at Kai.

"I think I'll leave you two alone," Kai sneered, winking wolfishly at him. "Go for it."

Scowling, Danny watched her go before turning to his friend. "Sam?" He could feel the nervousness welling up in the pit of his stomach. He felt sick.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to... I don't know… go to the dance together Saturday?" Quickly he added, "As friends, obviously… just so we wouldn't have to go alone?"

She looked at him cheerfully. "Danny, I'm surprised at you! I thought you'd ask Valerie or something."

He rubbed the back of his neck. It was a nervous tick, sort of, and it helped to have something to do with his hands. "So that's a yes?"

"Pfft. Duh."

Danny felt elated. A huge weight had been lifted from him. This was something, right? "Okay. I'll come pick you up at… eight?"

"Pending that my parents let me go."

"Great!" Danny trudged off to class, a goofy grin on his face. It was impossible to walk anywhere in such a dreamy state, and he ran into several lockers, as well as Dash prompting his stay inside a locker for most of fifth period.

Sadly enough, sixth period (by which time he'd been rescued by Sam and Tucker) was P.E. Another new kid leaned against the bleachers, his untidy black hair flopping into his face… over his eerily familiar glasses…

Kai growled. It wasn't a noise that any human should be able to make with _homo Sapien_ vocal cords. It was low and loud and guttural, coming from the chest and the throat at the same time. She bared her teeth. "Kai?" Danny said to her. "Is that…"

"I'm on it," she snarled, marching over. "When I get through with you, Drakkus K. Bacchus, there won't be enough left to make a fur hat!"

Drake looked calm. "Hello to you too, Kai."…...t his empty stomach, which stuck tightly to his spine. ...im Over the last few

Danny thought that, despite how he would like to see Drake knocked into Tuesday of next year, now was the worst time for a fight. "Today's lesson is dodge ball, guys. Hammer each other there!"

A whistle blew. While they'd been distracted, the game had started. After a few short minutes and a couple bouts of isolated screaming, Drake and Kai were the only two left on the field. Those not knocked out had dived for cover by that point, due to the amount of rubber balls flying through the air at high velocity. Kai was out first, but she wasn't giving up. After a bit and more whistle blasting from the baffled and helpless supervisor, both sported hefty bruises. Drake's glasses were shattered, Kai's nose could have been broken, except for the profuse lack of blood that was not pouring down her shirt. There were a few dents in the blacktop.

Danny suddenly had a sinking feeling. The week was not going to end on a high note, 'date' with Sam or no.

---

Longest chapter yet. And some fluff… sort of. I'm working on it! Forgive me. I love reading sappy romance, but I'm terrible at authoring it. Yet, I promise, it will end with at least some D/S-ness.


	8. Freak Out Friday

Chapter eight and we're coming up on the end. Which is good for me because, honestly, I don't have much remaining time to work on this. All work is assigned on Fridays at my school, so I like to get a jump on it… ruling out my normal designated FF time. Such is life. Anyway, I figure there are about… three, maybe four chapters including this one and the epilogue until the end, which is daunting when you realize that this is the first time I've actually got to chapter eight of anything.

Warnings/Disclaimers: I do not own Danny Phantom. I own Kai, Drake, and the Fates, but that's not really much of an accomplishment when you think about it. Again, thanks much to Frankie the Cat, who does not now nor will she ever have an FF account. I hope. Gods help us all if she ever gets one.

Quote:

"Am I perturbed? Yes. Worried? A little. Confused? Always." –My Dad.

---

The hotel was dark. At the reception desk, the phone rang and was automatically transferred to the room the call was intended for. The phone there rang too. After some searching, the receiver was located under a stack of newspapers dated some fifty years previous. "Hello?" a peevish wolfy voice growled into the phone, before realizing she was speaking into the wrong end. "Hello?" she repeated, gathering together a bit more patience.

"Kai? Are you there?" Sam's voice whispered frantically.

Kai, with her vast ability to take anything in stride, said, "Yes. Where else would I be? It's two in the morning." She didn't sound mad or even annoyed, just perplexed.

"It's Danny!"

"Look, if this is something X-rated, I don't want to hear it. I mean, I do, just not right now."

"Stop fooling around and be serious for five seconds, will you?" Kai hesitated in her usual programming of witty banter. Sam sounded desperate.

"What about him?" That early in the morning, nobody's brain cognates properly. Kai's, in fact, had stopped doing so several years in the past.

"You idiot! It's a full moon again!"

"You can't mean you haven't noticed!" Kai was shocked, if good-naturedly so. "It's been a full moon since I got here! Connect two and two together, will you?"

"…So what you're saying is…"

"He's a werewolf every night from now on. What's the problem?"

"Are you crazy? He's gone… lupine again!"

Kai, who had been reaching for a blanket, stopped dead. "Oh Gods. What's he done?"

"I don't know! I can't find him anywhere!"

The wolf slumped onto the cluttered floor. "Stay there, wherever 'there' happens to be for you. I'll be along in a minute."

"And then?"

"Possibly nothing. I made sure Drake wasn't around to jam his brain waves… but he could still be a monster."

---

"But Barty!"

"No."

"He's going to get slaughtered! Can't you stop-"

"No."

"Drake's _your_ assistant! Isn't there anything-?"

"For the last time, no!"

"Why not?"

"Because until it becomes definitely life threatening, it's hilarious."

---

The Wolf sat in a dumpster. More accurately, he sat where the dumpster had been five minutes ago, with bits of it scattered around. There was still that annoying voice in his brain, screaming for him to stop… but he ignored it. It would go away soon.

After all, why should he stop? Everything he'd ever wanted, deep down inside, was now his. The world was under his control, or would be soon. Nobody could tell him what to do, what to say, what to think… the girl he desired… she could be his too in so many more ways than one…

The Wolf drooled hungrily, and then shook his head. No. That was what the weak part of him wanted. He was strong. He was bold. The earth was his oyster, and no flimsy human mind would stop him.

The part of the Wolf that was still Danny shut up, and tried to think. It was like attempting to write a novel in gale-force winds. The focus was there, but also partly on the growing disaster all around threatening to consume him.

What was going wrong? What was happening to him? His life was spiraling down the drain quickly. If he wasn't stopped… civilization as he knew it would come crashing down around his feet. Literally, as demonstrated by the wreckage of a local all-night butcher shop that had been making the fatal mistake of cooking sausage.

The Wolf smelled the intruders before he saw them, and since they shared the same body Danny did too. It was a familiar scent, mixed with one that he knew all too well… oh gods no… There was a clatter, and a girl's voice shouted, "There he is!"

"I know! Get back! I'll deal with him first!" Another wolf growled, and then the pain in his shoulder tripled. "Don't hurt him!" the voice said again, to the accompaniment of the other wolf.

"I have to! Do you want him to kill something? Now find that ointment." That other wolf was getting frantic and agitated. In other words, acting like an animal would. This was logical, in a cosmic sense.

"Can't you do that this time?" The girl too was disconcerted.

"What have I been saying about the thumbs?"

"Sorry. Forgot."

Then everything went black. This, he thought, was really getting old fast.

---

Sam stared at Danny's body. "We can't go on like this," she muttered, watching Kai struggle with a length of gauze bandaging. "How much more can he take?" She wasn't worried. She had arrived safely at 'worried' quite a long time before the werewolf thing had even started.

"As much as we can as long as the medicine is properly applied," Kai grunted, through a mouthful of barkcloth binding. "I know it's not easy, but this is the reality now. We're the only ones standing between the Curse and total destruction." She tied off the bandage, and began rummaging around for something else.

"Total destruction of what, exactly? Is there something else you've conveniently forgotten to tell me?" Now she was worried again. Fearful shock had gotten in the way of it so far, but the dam had officially broken and a staggering tsunami of horror was surging through her nervous system.

Kai shrugged her bony shoulders in an exaggerated and complicated motion, which really shouldn't have been possible with her limited anatomy. Her ears flicked in the sympathy that she could not get across with words. "Yes. Only it's not so convenient 'cause now I've got to enlighten you on the topic, I suppose."

There was a long pause, filled with the sort of awkward but well meaning silence that followed Kai like a pet dog. "And?" Sam asked. "You were saying?"

"Oh. I was, wasn't I?" She sighed tiredly. It was clear the conversation was progressing too far for her comfort, which was just fine with Sam. "Alright. You know Drake?"

"The kid you nearly killed in P.E. yesterday?"

"The very same. He's a Messenger like me, only… he's playing for the other team." She stopped briefly to consider this. "Really, it's more like he's playing for his own team. He used to be good, you know. Now I can't tell anymore. He lives for his own betterment which in this case… may or may not involve destroying the world."

"Wouldn't it be better to take it over?"

"Ah, yes. Well, the way I figure it, once he's overthrown the Fates and killed us all, he can create a new world order."

"Consisting of what? Him and a pile of rubble?"

"Him, Danny, and a pile of rubble."

"Why Danny?"

"He may or may not be the most powerful creature on the face of the planet."

"Really?"

"Yes. The fact that he was once a halfa only adds to that."

"You know?"

"Yep."

"And yet, he still won't tell me that he's a werewolf."

"It's different. I just guessed. I mean come on! He looks exactly like the Phantom, just with a jumpsuit."

Sam looked at her. "You know, I never thought of it that way. Besides the white hair, the green eyes, and the lack of living, he's exactly the same."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Kai asked, tying two more strips of bandage together to create a makeshift sling for his grievously injured arm. If Sam had wondered, even briefly, about why the wounds weren't healing quickly, it was now obvious. Only silver could cause an injury that wouldn't heal on a werewolf.

She heaved a sigh, collapsing on a nearby soap box. "I don't even know anymore."

"Then let's just assume you weren't." The wolf stalked over to her pack. Most of Danny's clothes had been recovered for the most part, except for the shirt. He'd been wearing it at the time and it was subsequently unsalvageable. Oh well. He had a closet more of them at home. "Ready to get him back?" She asked, gripping the both the bag strap and the hem of Danny's pants leg in her teeth.

Sam sighed. "Sure. And we're positive about the shirt?"

Kai grinned. "Afraid of a little close contact?"

"Shut up."

"What did I say?"

"Shut up!"

"Really, what-"

"SHUT UP!"

---

"Kai?" Sam asked warily, making her way through the shadowy hall. It could have posed for the set of a slasher film. A not very good slasher film. "Where are we, exactly? Aren't we supposed to be taking Danny home?"

The russet-furred wolf gently pushed a door open with the tip of her shiny wet nose. "Stay out here for a moment," she growled, dashing into the room beyond. Sam lowered Danny to the floor and propped him up against a moldering wall. She stared at him for a peaceful moment before taking a seat beside him. So, he was a wolf now. That didn't change the way she felt about him at all. It was astounding, really, how a sense of normalcy could be fostered in such completely un-navigable terrain. Ghosts had been easy to deal with. This was as foreign as Chinese food marinated in salsa and Greek olive oil.

The door creaked open again and Kai, human once more, poked her head out. "Come on in," she whispered, probably to keep from waking Danny. Sam got the unsettling impression that anyone else in the motel would sleep like the dead due to that being a crucial part of what they were. "Bring Danny too. It's not the greatest idea to leave someone out in the hall like this for an extended period of time. Strangely enough, they usually wake up with arms missing."

Sam gathered her friend up and half carried, half dragged him the rest of the way in. Anywhere on the floor was good bedding, as it was all covered with a dense layer of books and other forms of 'literature'. Most of the manuscripts had science-y names like _Evolution- What is it? _And _Oceans: Who Needs them Anyway? _One had the picturesque and rather blunt title of _Burly Things that Live in Caves. _

Utterly revolted, Sam shut the door as Kai dusted off a chair, causing a minor avalanche of pulp faction. "How do you live like this?"

Kai shrugged again, which was now far easier to pull off convincingly. "It's sort of a base, see? While I'm here, it's here. Research, you know? The odd thing is that it seems too… follow me around. I check into a hotel somewhere and boom. There it is. It's damned annoying."

At this point, to say that Sam was tired would be a grave understatement. If she didn't get some sleep soon, she was going to fall over. With all her talking and exasperating nonsense, Kai was seriously not helping. It was time to cut to the chase. "What the hell is going on, wolf? It's too early for this. We've got to get Danny home!"

The wolf wasn't paying much attention. She was busy searching through stacks upon stacks of various wordage. Shoving aside a magazine opened to the article _Scientist Guys who are Dead Now, _she gave a small exclamation of happiness. "Here it is!"

"Do you ever listen? Ever?"

"What?"

"Forget it."

"Already have. Look, see this?" She produced a small sprig of flowered bush wrapped in lavender cloth.

"So?" Sam asked, mystified. "It's a twig. You brought me here to see a twig?"

Kai looked affronted. "Don't you know what this is? Haven't you heard any werewolf lore?"

"What do you think I am? Some sort of expert?"

The wolf shook her head. "I would have assumed that everyone had heard of this… it's wolfsbane."

This clicked in Sam's head. "Can you… cure him with that?"

"I'm afraid not. What it does is hold off the effects of the full moon for a few hours… and you've already got two after sundown to get it to him. Look, I know you want to go to this dance thingy with Danny, and he wants to go with you too. Slip it in his punch tomorrow night, and you'll have a great evening."

"It's not a date, or anything. We're just going as friends."

"…I'm sure. But you'd still like to go, right? You couldn't if you had to worry about him turning into a furry monster and ripping your throat out."

"Danny's not a monster! He's a great guy."

"Do you want help or not?"

Sam saw no other choice; she took the small package from Kai and tucked it in her shirt pocket. Glancing at Danny, who still lay prone on the floor, she realized that she really, really did want to go to the dance with him. "Thanks, wolf," she muttered, edging towards the door. "I guess I owe you now, huh?"

Kai grinned. "Don't worry about it. I exist for the betterment of other's lives, remember? Now, you take care of that thing. It's way too expensive, and hard to come across. I had to save up for years."

Guilt welled up in Sam's stomach. "Are you sure you don't need it?"

"I'm fine. I've had decades of practice."

"Decades?"

Kai looked depressed, exhausted, and haunted at the same time. "I'm old, Sam. Too old. I've seen a lot in my time. I've got this to say: If you love somebody, you've got to make a move fast. Live it up while you can, because pretty soon… Danny will be too young for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry to say this, friend, but werewolves don't age. At all. I've been alive for fifty years, but I'm still fourteen both inside and out. Danny hasn't aged a minute since Monday. And he never will again, unless I can find a cure. So… you've got to enjoy any relationship you want to have with him right now, while you can."

"We are not lovebirds!"

"People keep telling me that, and it keeps not being true. Just think about it."

---

The first period bell rang, clanging like a runaway train in Danny's head. Everything was too loud. Even the slightest noise made his head pound.

He was still wearing the bandaging over his shoulder for the reason that, if he began to take it off, it invariably started to hurt worse. This was not something he particularly wanted to experience.

As it was, the pain was terrible. It was like being burned and frozen at the same time, or like having the blade of a chainsaw stuck in his arm. The wound throbbed and bled more with every move he made, no matter how miniscule. The bandage made his shoulder look lumpy under his new shirt, but that didn't matter as much as the pressing feeling that if he took it off, he would bleed to death in the most gruesome way possible.

Class did not look as though it would go well. Lancer was first on the schedule- always a disaster, but made worse still by the fact that Kai and Drake took it together with him. He'd be lucky to get out alive, if yesterday's gym session had been any indicator.

Sitting down in his desk, he nervously searched for the two werewolves. Unluckily, Lancer had placed them in adjacent seats so they could 'get to know the school in company.' There was going to be a tragic moment coming up for sure. Vegas odds makers would have had a field day betting on the outcome of the class.

"Alright, children," Lancer growled, eyeing the Drake and Kai suspiciously, "we have another new student today. His name is Drakk-"

Drake cut in fiercely with "Drake, please, sir. Drake Brock."

Lancer scowled but chose not to comment. People were often intimidated by Drake, because if you weren't you were probably going to regret it on the way to the hospital. "Fine." He made a note on his clipboard. "The office must have gotten it wrong again. In any case, turn your books to page 38 and begin reading."

The book was Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ and they'd been painstakingly working their way through it for three weeks. The fact that they had only gotten up to page thirty-eight was kind of sad in Danny's opinion, but Lancer had to keep stopping his lessons to explain bits of text to the less bright students.

The following fifteen minutes of class went fine. Nothing disastrous at all happened in that quarter hour. What happened afterward, however, was the topic of much discussion in later days.

It began simply enough, with Danny going to the bathroom. When he returned, Drake poked him. Hard. In the shoulder. He'd wanted to rip the black-haired wolf's head off for that, and almost tried before Kai poked Drake. They had a snarled conversation, most of which was in another language that Danny couldn't understand, and then Drake punched her in the eye. By this time, the whole class was watching, with Lancer shouting at Drake.

But Kai was far from done. No, even the most pacifist wolf will lay down all morals when hit by her mortal enemy. To make a long story short, she jumped him. There was a brief scuffle on the floor, and then Kai fled for the hall with Drake, Danny, Sam, and Lancer in hot pursuit. Danny was first into the corridor behind the wolves who had changed into… well, wolves.

There was a gasp from behind him as Sam shut the door and saw the wolves. Drake had his teeth firmly fastened in Kai's neck, but she pulled him down and clawed his back… Lancer came out. They ran. Danny followed a few paces, and, in shock, made it back to his seat. He had known who the black wolf was. It was obviously Drake… but who was the smaller brown wolf? There was no explanation.

Neither Drake nor Kai made an appearance until lunch. Kai was wearing an awful turtleneck sweater that might have made good moth fodder, but was worthless for anything else. On her way to the table, Paullina made the error of laughing at her. A lunch tray was rapidly mashed into the queen of pink's face.

"What happened?" Danny asked when she sat down.

"Nothing."

"Are you alright?" Sam inquired uncertainly, trying not to look at the wolf's meaty lunch.

"I'm fine."

"What's with the sweater?" Tucker put in.

"Drop it, okay!" Nobody moved. This was the second time in one day they'd seen Kai mad, and the first that they'd heard her raise her voice. "I… I don't want to talk about it."

Danny gulped and went back to his lunch. Something was going on in Amity Park. Something that, like it or not, he was being dragged into the middle of.

---

Strangely enough, Sam was actually beginning to worry about Kai as well as Danny. She was clearly a nice person, if a little misguided, and she'd wanted to help with the dance…

There could be no other explanation for why Sam trailed after Kai on her way to her locker, the one that was next to Danny's. The wolf opened the metal cabinet with enough force to bend the hinges, revealing a mess to rival that of her hotel room. On the door was one picture, old and browning, of a large dog and a boy by a lake. It had been fixed to the metal with loving care. And a magnate.

"Kai?" The wolf spun around.

Sam had expected the wolf to snap at her, but that didn't happen. "What?" She asked glumly.

"Do you want to… talk about what happened earlier?"

"Case closed. There's nothing for you to worry about here."

"Who's that?" Sam pointed to the picture.

"Oh. It's nobody. Just a picture I picked up someplace." Sam raised an eyebrow, and Kai busied herself digging through the wreckage of her locker for something. "You know," she said, sounding a tiny bit happier, "I know there's some good in Drake somewhere. There has to be. No one can be that evil without being partly good. Besides, when I met him he wasn't like this."

Despite what she wanted to be, Sam couldn't help thinking that, if there ever had been a good part of Drake, it was long gone now. The side of him that Kai knew was never coming back.

She wondered about the picture Kai had. Was that why she was being so helpful? Was that why she'd wanted Sam to make the most of what time she had left with Danny? Experience could be a powerful teacher, but if this was the case… Sam truly pitied Kai. By becoming what she was, she had lost everything, but she still endeavored to help others out as much as she could.

Little could anyone know how terrible this trait, coupled with Drake's basic nature, would prove.

---

A candle burned warmly on the cluttered desk, illuminating an undersized patch of room populated with black and white pictures. Some were of paranormal scenery, some featured various animals… but most centered around a wolf and a boy. Kai looked long and hard at the photos and sighed. She rubbed her temples. Laying a heavy book entitled _Parts of Earth that Explode _on the counter, she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes.

Night had come again, but she was adept at staying partially human. Only when she had use of opposable thumbs could she continue her readings and the search for a cure. The curse was a terrible thing, to be sure, but the time when she would have wanted it for herself was long over. Her past was gone, but she could still preserve the future for Danny.

She'd used to think that she didn't need friends. She'd spent years deliberately avoiding them. All she needed was her job and her rivalry with Drake. She lived for nothing else. But…

Lately that had been different. Since meeting Danny and his friends, she'd felt something else rising in her again. It had been years between friendships, but now… there was something about them that she liked. They tried to do good, despite what their townspeople thought about the ghost boy. She liked that.

Kai had had many of her own sacrifices. You didn't spend fifty years living as a fourteen year old without giving some things up. But she had lived with this because she knew that her work was crucial. The Fates needed to exist, or the plotted course for the earth would get off track. That was why she worked tirelessly against what Drake was trying to do. Even Bartholomew wasn't this bad.

From the desk, there was a chiming noise like a small bell. Cursing, Kai dug feverishly through the drawers, ruffling through the files and knick-knacks stored therein. A gleaming crystal plate was removed and set over the book.

Kai waved a furred hand over it, and the surface shimmered unsteadily. A picture appeared, one of a rough-hewn cavern. She'd seen it before, once. It was beneath the castle in which the dark Fate resided. A gathering of wolves had met there, carrying torches…

"Oh no," she whispered, staring in awe at the sight that unfolded before her eyes. There was nothing else she could do.

---

There was the flash of light on silver as another wolf fell, toppling off a spar of rock and into the dark lake below. "Give up, Bartholomew!" Drake shouted, brandishing a mace. "Your day is done! The time of the wolves is here!" The wolf had a manic look in his eye as he roared out. "You have commanded us for far too long! We are strong! We are independent! We are free!"

Bartholomew slashed a burly gray wolf across the chest and pushed him into the icy liquid. His eyes narrowed, never a good sign. "What do you take me for, Drakkus, a fool? You exist to keep the world in balance, not to destroy it!"

"We will take the boy, and we will prevail! There is nothing we cannot do! Besides," he gestured at Antigoras, who was sitting in a large iron-barred cage, "we have captured your plebian friend. There is no escape for you." Antigoras waved.

Bartholomew was mystified. "I have killed your comrades. Do you not want revenge?" They seemed to merely be trying to capture him, and this was deeply confusing. This was not the way he was used to the world working.

"Why should I? They are useless pawns who have outlived their usefulness. They and their pitiful qualities deserve to be removed from the gene pool."

Bartholomew may have been a few Christmas carols away from sainthood, but he knew when something was immoral. He didn't like it. He may start wars, cause pollution, and fix elections, but he knew when it was time for some good old fashioned morality. The fundamental difference between him and Drake was that he knew exactly where the fine line lay, and made sure not to cross it. "You are my pawn, Drakkus. I deplore having to do this to my trusted assistants, but it is necessary."

Drake laughed mirthlessly. "You pawn? Your pawn? Drake Brock is nobody's pawn! You shall suffer for your sappiness, Barty. Your time is gone. Mine is nigh!" There was a meaty twang as Thesarus loosed a goose-flighted arrow up towards the slippery granite ridge where the Fate stood. He cried out as it connected sharply with his right shoulder, causing him to topple forwards.

Still conscious, he struggled to the shore where two wolves gripped his arms and held fast. Tossing Bartholomew into the cage and slamming the door, Drake growled, "Remember my parting words for eternity, Barty. The world has always belonged to me. I was only biding my time."

---

Danny tossed and turned in his bed, throwing the sheets overboard. The moon was behind clouds, so mercifully he was spared the horror of another transformation, at least for a few more minutes. He had dreamed, and it was terrible. Where his other fantasies had been pleasurable, his current one had been heartbreaking.

He sobbed without tears, staring out the window. He wouldn't do that to his friends. Never. His dreams had centered on their deaths at the paws of the Wolf. This was unacceptable. He could never do that. It was beyond thinking. He wouldn't do that to Tucker or Sam. He refused.

Sam… how could he face her? He had to tell her tomorrow. When he went to pick her up for the dance- the one that, sadly enough, was only as friends –he would confess it. He had been insane to think he could honestly keep it from her.

The moon came out. The change wracked his body. The Wolf heard his closet creak open, and saw two figures step out of it. A knife plunged into his shoulder. "There's one thing done," Kai said, letting Sam take over with the healing. "Next, we've got to find a way to cure him."

---

Dang, that was a long chapter. This is turning out different than I had assumed. In any case, I hope my readers enjoyed it. I would sincerely appreciate any reviews you dare bestow upon me. I would be eternally grateful. Until next time, ciao!


	9. Fatal Mistake

As per the request of one reviewer, the first part of this chapter delves deeper into Kai's past. You're free to skip it, but that's up to you. There is some actual story here, too, though.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Sigh. Another chapter, another week chock full o' OC's. Also, I don't own Danny Phantom. Can I stop saying this now?

---

The moonlight burst through the window, spilling over the dark room and falling over Danny, turning his skin a pale, sickly white. His dreams were disturbed, and his sheets, once tucked neatly in around him, had been churned up and tossed overboard. But for now, at least, he lay face up on the bed, peace stealing over him. At least, it seemed that way.

His shoulder was aflame with pain again, despite the fact that he wasn't awake to feel it. Though his body was human, his spirit dwelled in that place between waking and sleeping known to some as the Dreamtime. And he wasn't alone. Thoughts and dreams drifted across his consciousness, flashing before his eyes…

_It was dark. Dark enough that it was impossible to see his hand in front of his face. Given his anatomy, he couldn't have anyway._

_His eyes adjusted. The cave was damp, and alive with the smells of the sorts of things you get in shadowy caverns that happen to have a lot of wet in them. Moss and slime clung to the walls. The cave was circular, for the most part, with only a small strip of what could have been called 'land' by those unconcerned with accuracy that circled the lake. The icy tarn's black sheets of water lay still and undisturbed, punctuated by occasional splashes as a bleeding, morphing body crashed into the surface._

_Sounds, too loud for his wolfish ears to accept in good faith, reverberated over the smooth worn walls and accumulated like cobwebs in a condemned house. They met his senses unpleasantly for a moment, and then lined themselves up in an orderly fashion to form coherent words._

_A flash of steel, another crash of warm flesh on water, and more harsh words exchanged among the culprits. A clang of steel on iron; a prison door shutting, mild cursing from the captives. The air in the fissure turned different, like the atmosphere of a crypt once the bodies had begun to fossilize. It was a final feeling, as if the door of the world had slammed shut._

_For an instant, a brief second, Drakkus Bacchus stared directly at him and grinned. Then, the world tremored and changed…_

_He was standing in a wide, trampled clearing. This was, he instinctively knew, a time far before the one he knew. This was where dreams were forged, where, for good or bad, historic things happened. This was the sort of placed that hopped around a lot, now in the forests of India, now in the barren deserts of Mongolia._

_He shivered. The Wolf, now what he was once more, feared this place. Another Wolf had been brought into being here._

_The undergrowth crunched under the feet of two children, not much older than the Wolf's host. One of them, a boy, seemed in the lead. "Come on, Kai!" he shouted, bursting through into the clearing. "You've got to see!"_

_A girl, very familiar, pushed through a curtain of bushes. She looked wary, her slightly cat-like eyes darting around. "I don't know," she murmured, taking in the space. "This wasn't here yesterday, or even last week. This whole place stinks like magic."  
_

"_Oh, and you can tell, can you?" The boy crossed his arms and stared her down. What're those, then?" He pointed at a pile of granite rocks, huge boulders with white painted streaks along them. Not waiting for an answer, he raced over to them, and jumped up on the largest. "Come join me! You can see half the woods from here! Well, not really, but it's a good view."_

_Kai's eyes widened and the Wolf could hear her heart beating out of her chest. Fear for her friend outweighed fear of herself, and she was pounding across the field of flattened grasses shouting, "Get down from there! Get down, hear me! Hurry! That's not safe…"_

_There was an earth shaking blast, which sent violent vibrations rattling under the ground, tossing clods of dirt. A great chasm was opening up and closing, a rippling tear in the sod that chased Kai and overtook her, searching blindly for the one that dared trespass on sacred ground._

_It reached the rock and hit it, causing the boy to topple from his perch. There was a sickening crack, like bones snapping, and in a flash of blue light, a black wolf appeared. Not any wolf; a Wolf. Alongside him was a hooded figure. The wolf charged at the boy, but Kai tackled it with an inhuman roar._

"_Now, Drake," The robe said calmly, raising a glass of tea to its' hidden mouth. The black Wolf twisted around and threw Kai off, sinking his fangs deep into her leg, which gushed blood. She lay still, allowing the scarlet liquid to pool around her._

"_I told you she was right for the job," the hood said happily, clasping his hands around his wide gut. "Look, she even tackled you when she went for her friend. That's what I call _class_."_

_The black wolf spit. "I'll come back for her tomorrow. For now, we have a meeting with Bartholomew to attend. Right, master?" Too much emphasis was put on the word 'master' for anyone to believe that he was truly in servitude. There was another crack, and they were gone._

_The boy crept, limbs shaking like a tree in a hurricane, towards his fallen friend. "Kai?" he whispered, gripping her hand. "Kai, are you okay?" The leg was healing, but dangerously slowly. "This is all my fault," he cried, attempting to move her. "All my fault. I'm so sorry, Kai. So, so sorry."_

The dream faded in a flash as Danny woke with a start, his arm awash with the fires of the Curse. It had been bandaged neatly, but blood was soaking through. He sat up, rubbing life into his limbs. It had felt real. So very real, that he wondered if he hadn't actually been there.

Before the sleep had come, he'd been stabbed. That was what always happened to end a night's werewolfery. There was enough silver left in his system to last a while, but why did he still feel as if he was an animal? Short answer: he still was. The Wolf would never leave him completely. Not after this.

There was a startling truth to what of the dream he could remember. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs out of bed, slipped on his tennis shoes, and got unsteadily to his feet. He needed to resolve things. He needed the truth.

---

Truth is hard to nail down, and hard to understand, but when Danny knocked on Kai's door for the second time in one week, she was well prepared. Danny, standing in the hall, and not so much as raised a hand when the door swung open and Kai pressed a cup of the coffee-that-wasn't-coffee into his chest. He was then hustled into the room, and shoved into a musty chair that squeaked oddly when he sat in it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Kai shushed him. "I know what you want," she growled, "and I'm not telling you."

"But I saw it in my dream! You can't deny that! Are you…" he stopped, trying to find a polite way to phrase it. "A werewolf?"

He eyes narrowed, and she ran a paw over her face. As he watched, her body changed and warped, condensing into one smaller body. "Yes," she barked from the floor, tail wrapped around her gangly legs. "I am a werewolf. I have been for many a year, Fenton. I'm here because of what you are. Now, I am afraid, I can tell no more."

She shifted again. There was no better word for it; the motion was like a confused, jerky shrug. She was partially human again, with clothes and all. Danny became fascinated with the pictures and things she had spread over her desk. "What's this?" he asked, indicating a shard of what looked like a doubled mirror. It appeared to be a mirror looking in on another mirror, except that there was only one of it.

She sniffed. "You have good taste. Your wolf-sense must be highly developed. As if I'm surprised… that would be a scry glass. Like a crystal ball, but it actually works. It shows you what you truly need to see; not what you want to see, or would like to see. Depending on the situation, it can either be damn annoying or very, very useful."

Danny observed it with growing interest. Swirls of what appeared to be liquid smoke traced patterns over the surface as he looked on; ribbons of ethereal light that danced and played. "Eternity webs," Kai explained. "They catch the image of whatever you need, and tie it to the glass."

"How does this thing work?" Danny asked, eyes stuck fast to the device. It seemed to be operating of its own accord.

"Wave a paw over it and concentrate. Go on, give it a try." He did. The surface wavered, and the image changed. It showed a black room, with black carpet, black wallpaper, and black curtains. He gulped. The room was Sam's. Dread settled in his stomach, sloshing around and getting his adrenaline pumping.

She was just getting home from somewhere, bags under her eyes. The evidence pointed to long nights for her in recent times. She fell on the bed and slept instantly, the picture fading again.

"Why does she look so tired?" Danny asked Kai, perplexed.

The wolf gave a short cough. "That falls in the category of things I can't discuss. But may I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"You should tell Sam."

"I'm going to. Tonight."

"Make sure you do." There was a faltering silence.

"I'll go, then," Danny said, stepping towards the door.

"You do that," Kai sighed morosely.

"See you tonight?"

"Yeah. I don't have a date, but I'm planning on just showing up."

"You could always go with Drake," Danny joked, earning him a slap over the head and another stay in the hall. The lamps flickered. The rats squeaked, much in the manner of Kai's chair. A scream was uttered by the occupant of one of the other rooms.

It was Saturday. No school. No other obligations. Good. This would give him some time to plan his evening. He was determined that nothing would go wrong.

The worst mistake anyone can make is assuming that, if they try hard enough, nothing bad will happen. The universe will always make this so, just to spite you.

---

The moon rose again, this time obscured by clouds, this time at regular night, not early morning. Below the fog-dappled sky, joyful children of the younger persuasion marched from house to house, scaring witless old biddies and earning caramel coated apples for their efforts.

Danny was searching for a treat, of course, but one of an entirely different consistency. He shuffled down sidewalks and across parking lots, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. The moon was hidden, keeping him more or less human, but he was still sort of an animal.

It was a masquerade dance, being Halloween, and Danny had, exhibiting less than good judgment, had decided to go with barely disguised wit for his outfit. A fake muzzle covered his nose, brown cat ears were affixed to his head, and a sheet of fake fur was draped over his back. He was regretting tying the tail around his waist; it kept getting tangled up in his legs and tripping him.

A cool breeze kissed his burning cheeks as he reached the Manson household, and he stood fidgeting on the steps for a few seconds as he waited for someone to answer the door. There was a brief scuffle and shouting match from within, the noise of which only would have eluded him if he'd been two miles away and listening to hard rock at volumes high enough to blast his eardrums in. Sam, looking ruffled and slightly flustered, opened it and grinned at him. "Ready to go, then?" she asked, slamming the door behind her.

"Yeah," Danny breathed, staring. Sam was decked out as a vampire, complete with the typical gothic black dress and boots, complete with cape and fangs. She grinned, showing her now pointed teeth.

"Like my outfit? It's not that different from what I usually wear, honestly."

Danny snapped out of his short-lived astonishment. "It's great," he gasped, beginning to creep back down the walk. "We should be going… I'm a little late coming…" he neglected to mention that he had almost not come at all on the basis that he might end up killing someone.

"Yours is good too," she said, falling into step next to him as they walked. "It fits well with your night job. You know, the one where you run around tearing up streets?"

Danny almost fell over. "You know?"

"Yeah. Who do you think's been healing you this whole time? Magical bandage faeries from the land of werewolves?"

Danny was smart enough to be sheepish. "I don't know. I didn't think about it much." There was expectant silence as they continued the trek, with Danny mulling things over. "I meant to tell you, you know," he told her, knowing full well he should have owned up to the fact before. "I was going to do it tonight, actually. It's just been hard, you know. At first it was just me, but now I learn that there are lots more, along with two others here in Amity…"

"I know about that," she said, nodding. "Kai explained it all. You should know that without us, you would have died."

"When?"

"After Kai stabbed you."

No one spoke for a while. The wind whistled in the naked trees. Children scampered about merrily. Far away, a wolf howled, and Danny had the inexplicable urge to answer it. He resisted, but only just.

There was a small crowd gathered outside Casper High, waiting for the moment to arrive and the doors to open. Without thinking, Danny let an arm droop over Sam's shoulders, feeling her shiver slightly under his touch. He wasn't thinking; it just happened. He wanted it to happen. The part of him that was the Wolf was taking over; it may not like his choice of love, but desire was a topic that it stood firm on. If you wanted it, it was yours, it said. Be it a woman, a country, or a sum of money. It was yours.

And the world was his.

---

There was a brief period of quiet in the cell, broken by Bartholomew. "Antigoras?"

"Yes, Barty?"

"Please stop with the pious silence. You're no better than me."

"On the contrary, Barty, I rather think I am. You deal in death and despair. I work with happy things."

"Like cookies?" Bartholomew snarled mockingly.

"Yes, Barty. Like cookies."

Bartholomew's tail puffed up in a manner which, given any other situation, would have been knee-slapping-ly hilarious. "Antigoras, you are a buffoon. Life needs me. It is my job. Why, Anti. Ask me why."

Antigoras, naturally inquisitive, gave in. "Why, Barty?"

"Because the world is full of dependants. Without darkness, there can be no light. Without sun, there is no shadow. Without death, no life. Without depression, there can be no way to measure happiness. I define you, so without me, you could not be. That is why I do what I do."

There was a mollified "Oh," from the general direction of where Antigoras was sitting.

"That is also," Barty added, "the reason why I'm breaking the bloody hell out of here."

---

Kai was ready to go. She had everything. One quick glance at her scrying glass and she could be off…

What most people don't know about the glasses is that they come in pairs, one attached to the other. And now, what Kai really, really needed to see was a note that Drake had taped to his. It read, "You gave her the wrong flowering weed, young wolf. I have won now."

"Damn," Kai cursed, and soon there was nothing left where she had been before but a stack of shed clothes, resting on the newspaper-strewn flooring. The door was gaping open, revealing to anyone who cared a light brown wolf streaking away in the direction of Danny and his date.

---

"Here you go, Danny," Sam said jovially, hading him a glass of punch. She was giddy. Well, maybe that wasn't the word- no self respecting Goth would ever be giddy –but she was certainly happy. She'd ground up the wolfsbane and slipped it in his drink, making sure that he wouldn't notice anything amiss.

"Thanks," he replied distractedly, accepting it and taking a deep quaff. He set the drained paper cup on the refreshment table, and leaned on it. Sam squinted her eyes and looked hard at him. It was strange but, impossibly enough, his skin and flesh seemed to be boiling, changing. His face scrunched up in pain as he tried to restrain something…

He roared, losing control. Many people in the crowd turned towards him, wondering what was going on. He bent double, and Dash shouted, "Look guys! Fen-turd's sick! What's wrong, man? Spent too many nights out with your loser parents?"

Danny straightened up slightly, his fangs bared, his eyes utterly inhuman. "Stay away from me, Baxter," he screeched, a wolfish tenor stealing into his voice. "Go!" No one moved, frozen in terror. Nothing observed before in this city of ghosts could compare to Danny's transformation. "Go!" he shouted, louder, but he had a captive audience.

Agonizing minutes later, a creature not quite wolf, not quite human half stood, half crouched in the center of a dispersed ring of onlookers. The wedge shaped head swung around on its furry neck, seeking a quarry. It found it. "Baxter," It snarled, a smirk plastered in a deranged style upon the sharp snout. "You tormented me. You hurt me. You made me a fool. You will pay, Baxter. In blood."

An unearthly wail, part howl, part ghost shriek, ripped from his throat as Dash pushed through the crowd to get away. There was no arguing with a monster that wants to tear your heart out and eat it for dinner. You just run. As the throng of students was paralyzed in horror, he found this amazingly hard to do.

The circle expanding to encompass Dash, which was odd because nobody at all seemed to move. It was as if space-time warped around them, driving away the other players in the event.

The Wolf, for the part of Danny that was still Danny was lost in a haze of purple fog, unable to do much to stop what was essentially himself, pounced upon Dash. Both remained standing, with the latter pressed up against the wall. Fangs nipped softly at his throat, the Wolf savoring the power exerted over his victim. The jock whimpered, not trying to protest. That would make death come faster.

Sam watched, not believing what she saw. How could Danny do this? And what had caused him to Change? Kai had guaranteed he would stay human if she slipped it in his drink. Had she lied? Why would she?

And how, without and silver on her person, could she stop this?

---

Kai cannoned into Drake, who was sitting by a fire in the school lot. She stood over him, mad as she had ever been before. "Why did you do that?"

Drake grinned. "I did nothing. You gave her the wrong thing."

"But… monkshood? I don't even keep any of that around."

"Ah. Yes. I may have given it to you, in the spirit of goodwill."

"Good will my fuzzy wolfy arse! They look exactly the same!"

"Precisely."

"Damn."

"Going to be the big hero, now?"

"No," she muttered wretchedly, flopping on her back and focusing on what of the stars could be seen. "I can't. I'm not allowed to fix it, and, really, I probably couldn't stop it. I could put it off, sure, but something like this was bound to happen eventually."

"Good," he declared, signaling with his tail. A pack of other wolves materialized out of thin shadows. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a world to dominate."

The world is a strange place, to be sure. Devious things happen every day. Wars break out. Innocents starve, or are caught in the crossfire of some unfortunate misunderstanding. But this, possibly, was the most horrid thing to ever happen in Amity.

Because, to be sure, it nearly ended the Great Story.

What story? Antigoras had once asked, upon starting work as Fate.

The story of everything, Barty had replied. And when a story like that comes to an end, you can bet there are going to be complaints. Namely, from the people who have to give their lives for it to be over.

---

I don't really like how this chapter turned out. It seems like the more I attempt to phase out my OC's, the more of them I end up putting in. It's a vicious cycle. Again, reviews would be appreciated. I thrive on them… it's sad.


	10. Pack Mentality

This, it would seem, is the last real chapter before the epilogue. I hope everyone's enjoying it so far; I work really hard on this thing. Last night I was so tired that I collapsed on my laptop. Ironically? I landed on the delete button and I had to rewrite the last half of this. Honestly, I'll be glad when this is over…

---

Have you ever experienced one of those moments when time stops? When the earth is shaken to its core and, for a few rapidly passing seconds, all chronological order is abandoned just so that the universe can make a point? Everyone has. Even if they don't know it.

For, usually, these instances are so short-lived that nobody notices. Sometimes they are longer, drawn out on a thin line so that you can feel the seconds guttering to a halt and freezing in the dark mists of time.

And sometimes, the regular order of things is thrown out like so much dirty bathwater. As the Wolf stood, pressing Dash Baxter against the wall, ready to tear him apart, everything seemed to stop. The clocks and watches in the room shuddered to a halt and, for the great majority of everyone in the room, time froze solid, trapping them in a timeless world of blue and black shadows.

But there are exceptions to every rule. It is a universal circumstance; there will always be, for every situation, one element that simply will not fit. The existential equivalent, if you will, of trying to fit the round peg into the square hole

Danny Fenton, or what remained of him, was that exception. As the time around him froze and filled up the room like a glass of water plunged into a vat of liquid nitrogen, the Wolf created a pocket of resistance. After all, there is only one thing Nature abhors more than a vacuum, and that is a werewolf.

Come hell and high water, there will always be those places high and dry above the flood. Time, in its infinite wisdom, has a sense for what needs to be done. Sometimes things will work out for themselves. So the time stream was carefully woven into place, leaving space for both Sam and Tucker while the rest of the world had hit the pause button on itself.

Sam carefully took a breath. It was like trying to inhale whipped cream. The air was stale, locked in place. She shifted a bit, and felt akin to if she was pushing her way through a pool of water. Time was shifted aside as she crept forward, edging towards Danny. There had to be something she could do. This wasn't like him at all. What was happening? He needed help.

In Danny's mind a private war was being waged with the simple weapon of willpower. If the assault had been a storm before, it was a straight-up tsunami now. Wave upon wave of wolfish, bestial thought crashed down over the last vestige of his identity. He had a bad feeling about this. It was as if he gave in, he'd never return. The Wolf would have him completely, and his heart and mind would be gone forever.

He concentrated hard on not giving in, not giving up, but it was a losing battle. Bit by bit, he was changing, morphing. His memories, for example, were disappearing. Instead, all that came up to his consciousness were flashes of color and sound that felt as old as time. And he wasn't just seeing them, either. He was feeling them. They were all around him, consuming him, adding to the senseless chaos. The power pumped through him, racking his body with spasms of confusion and fear that were not his own.

The sky was blood red. The island of rational thought that he stood on was rapidly disintegrating into the pounding, churning sea around him. It was a lake of endless, reaching scarlet, which hit the horizon at a point that was nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape. Senses that, technically, belonged to his body but in a different form besieged his soul. It inflamed him, and, had he still been in possession of his actual, physical brain, he would have been mad with coursing adrenaline. As it was, part of him was. Scarily enough, it was the part he couldn't control.

The ghost images fed by he eyes of the Wolf told him he had attacked Dash, and he remembered what Kai had told him. She'd said that the Wolf found his hidden desires and implemented them. While he was the Wolf, he wasn't responsible. While he was the Wolf, he could be forgiven. Everything he'd ever wanted but had been too scared to outright take was his if he let it be, if he gave in. Rejection? Who cared about rejection? It was only a word. Fear? He didn't know the meaning of the word. It was all gone if he wanted it to be. The world was at his disposal…

_No!_ A weakening part of him cried out, shouting as loud as it could over the buffeting winds that had sprung up amid the force and threatened to tear out his eardrums. _This isn't my thoughts! This is… that wolf again! The black one! What was his name?_

And then everything was gone. In a rush it was swept away, and nothing was left but a great, red void of swirling waters. Distraction had been fatal. By taking the memories first, the Wolf had captured the last strongholds of Danny's mind.

The Wolf smiled. The day was his to seize. The host was gone. The desires would be executed. Starting, literally, with Dash Baxter.

---

Brother Bartholomew, last of the dark Fates, the counterweight balance on the teeter-totter of eternity, stared in blank frustration at the metal walls of the cage, which glared defiantly back, strong as they had been half an hour previously. Time worked differently here, Antigoras knew. He hadn't known it was so twisted that no human contrivance could measure it. The crystals of his digital watch lay glistening on the damp, rocky floor of the cave. They sparkled in the smoky torchlight.

No one made a sound as Bartholomew advanced upon the locked gate. He touched one claw to a crossbar. A spark of blue lightning crackled between them for a moment, creating a temporary thread between living and non-living matter. He did not feel it.

Antigoras trembled in fear. This was powerful magic from the dawn of time. Then again, most things in their work were. The electricity filled the air and made his fur stand on end. The feeling was not pleasant, and if he'd had any concept of what a dryer was, he might have imagined being stuck inside of one. The air was hot and sticky, like a thick blanket of molasses dripped over the two. This was not how a dank cave far below ground should feel.

Another spark, in the form of a jet of flame. A distant echo rumbled throughout the vast chamber, like a clap of thunder. A tremor through the ground, and the tarn rippled, the earth seemed to split in two. Bartholomew's face was screwed up in concentration.

Time stopped. Everything went back to normal. Bartholomew adjusted his grip. He smirked. "Got it," he growled happily, his strength depleting fast. "Just one… minute… more…"

And then the world, simply put, went all to hell.

---

"Now," Drake snarled, slashing his tail in the direction of the school. "Take it now!" The time wave smashed over the land, ignoring the wolves as they broke out in a chorus of slivery howls and hitting the hallowed walls of Casper High. It was a grand feeling. The world was his. The Wolf was a pawn, easily steered.

Long ago, Drake had stopped playing the conventional game of worlds. When others of his (original) species had been preoccupied with killing one another for food, or glory or –and this was a big one –women, when all the rest were fighting a bloody game of rugby, he was sitting in the dark corner playing a one-sided game of chess. He liked to play against himself because he always won. And now, the game had changed. Where once he had fought Bartholomew over every little detail, over every unnecessary human life that no one would miss in the first place, now he played against the world.

A world which, do to the time glitch, now consisted of him, the other wolves, and a few meaningless people.

The doors blew down, revealing a forest of humans stuck in time. He grinned. This would be too easy. As he approached, the Wolf turned and glared at him. Part of Danny drove the Wolf at a very base level, and that part wanted Drake_ dead_.

He backed up a pace, lowering his body to the ground in mock submission. "Master," he growled, "by all means finish the boy off. Do not let me intrude. Then we shall talk."

The Wolf nodded to the best of his capacity, and lowered his drool-laden maw to the boy's throat. Fear had taken Dash Baxter over. He was screaming to wake the dead and struggling to break the Wolf's grip, but it was to no avail. Even in absolute silence, nobody took any notice.

Except Sam Manson. She had no love for Dash, that was true, but far be it for her to stand back and watch as her friend- no, that _thing_ –took someone's head off. Even if said head did not contain a brain.

The thought nearly made her cry, and she never cried. Danny Fenton might as well have been dead, for all the good it would do him to continue existence. He couldn't live with himself, she knew, if he came back to a world where his hands (paws) were stained with blood.

So, risking everything for the friend she had lost, Sam stepped forward. Behind her, there was a small squeak of fear and some frantic beeping- Tucker rapidly researching everything he could about werewolves on his ever-present PDA. She gave a discreet little cough, and shouted, "Hey, fur ball! Get away from him, damn it! And you," she rounded on Drake, "I know you! I've never met you before, but I know you! You and your smarmy little face could only be Drake! Besides," she continued, pouring as much contempt into the words as she could manage, "I saw you at school yesterday. You got in a fight with Kai."

The Wolf turned to her, emotions mixed into a dangerous cocktail of crazy. The part of him that was the Wolf wanted to kill her to remove an intruding force, and the part of him that was Danny wanted to jump her for entirely different purposes. A flash of uncertainly rushed briefly through the Wolf's veins as it deliberated what to do. Nothing had been this complicated before. Before, it had been: see something, kill it. Now, there were morals to worry about. The part of the thing that he had forgotten, if he had enough brain to forget, was that assimilating Danny's soul into his own had given him a conscious.

And currently, that conscious, whose name was Danny, was saying calmly, _Well, we could always not do anything. That would be quite simple. We could wait the transformation out_. But the last part was added hopefully, as a sort of suggestion.

Sam was beginning to think that this hadn't been such a good idea when the Wolf dropped Dash. Good. That was a start. Wait… he was coming for her instead. Dash, now lost to the minds of everyone in the room, stepped out of the hypothetical high ground and froze in suspended time. The Wolf took a shaky step towards her, one clawed paw outstretched… his face was screwed up in concentration… he was fighting it… Then his eyes narrowed, and the Wolf had returned in full. The creature dropped low to the ground and was… wolf shaped.

He was a big, white dog. A white wolfhound with eyes like green embers and paws the size of dinner plates. Two fangs like ivory steak knives jutted out over his thin black lips. The eyes were haunting, as if there was another soul lurking behind them, trying to break free. He took another, smaller, faltering step, almost as if he was afraid to move closer.

"Danny?" Sam asked tentatively. "Danny, I'm going to help you through this, I promise. Everything's going to be alright, okay? Please, Danny. I want to help you. The real you is in there somewhere, fighting for freedom. I can feel it."

The Wolf had another spurt of confusion, and reared up on his back legs, paws scraping at the closed eyelids. Given that he was an animal, this gave her a bad view of his anatomy, or would have if she hadn't looked away. The Wolf fell back to his feet, ears plastered against his head.

Drake scowled dangerously. "Forget her. She is nothing. Kill her! Do it now!" The Wolf whined and paced in circles, chasing after his tail. He snapped at Sam, smirking. "He will be mine, girl. As we said in olden days, 'get thee to a nunnery.'"

"He means you're a whore," said a disdainful voice by her shoulder, which then proceeded to sniff haughtily. "What kind of an idiot quotes Hamlet to a high school kid, anyway?"

Sam took a quick look around. Kai was leaning sadly against a nearby wall, a glass of punch in hand. She was in the same half-wolf mode that Danny had been in up to recently, but had managed clothes. Tucker scuttled up behind Sam. Kai gave a wan half smile. "So," she sighed, "the gang's all here. Far be it for me to get in your way."

"What am I supposed to do?" Sam hissed, snatching the PDA from Tucker's hands. The beeping was breaking the profound silence, and being very annoying all at once.

Kai closed her eyes and took a torturously slow sip of her drink. "I'm not going to interfere. I've done enough for one day."

"But…" Sam risked a glance at the Wolf, who had gathered himself up and was coming to grips with the fact that someone had to die today. "What do I do? Danny's gone nuts."

"Are you willing to sacrifice everything for him?"

"Yes," she said quietly, facing the Wolf who was working himself into a frenzy.

Kai took a deep breath. "Have you ever heard of the berserkers?" she asked. "Vikings. Always a source of fun. I've met a few. But the berserkers, now… they were absolutely insane. They wore wolf skins into battle, and not much else. Or, at least, that was what people thought for years." There was a drawn out pause. "They were really the first turnskins, the first werewolves. There are still a few of them among the legions of Fate. They're different from the rest. They remember how things used to be, in the days of darkness when the earth was new."

"So, you're saying…?"

"Just making conversation."

The Wolf was ready, and stood tense. "Get her," Drake howled triumphantly. "You know you want to! You want to taste good, sweet lifeblood, boy! You want to watch rivers of it pour over the floor! The revolution starts now, and it starts with us! We are the alpha and omega!"

"Aye, but who is who?" An older wolf called from the background, giving Sam a start. She hadn't noticed them standing there. They had seemed to… fade in to the scene. "You cannot control him, Drakkus. We all know that. He will overpower you."

Sam stored away what Kai had said about berserkers. Was this one of them? Drake left the comment alone.

The Wolf advanced, his paws working independently from the orders they were receiving from his brain. He prepared to jump.

"Danny, don't!" Sam pleaded, staring him down. "This isn't you! You don't like killing, remember? You want to help people! And I'm your friend!" He stopped in mid-stride. "Drake is the enemy, but you don't need to kill him either!" The Wolf turned on Drake, ready to tear the life out of him.

"No!" The black wolf shouted, as every other wolf began to creep towards him. "No! You are all on my side! My side, you hear? Stand down!" The wolves he'd brought, fearing his legendary wrath, fled, their pelts blending together as they ran.

"Cowards," said Kai in a stage whisper.

"You!" Drake screamed at the Wolf. "You are mine! My pawn! Forget the girl! She is nothing! NOTHING!"

The Wolf cocked his head to the side and, reaching a decision, smiled perilously at Drake. "I can make my own choices, thanks," he roared, with some effort. Every syllable tore from his mouth with vengeance. Drake had done this to him. Drake had done this to Kai years before. Drake had ruined his chances with Sam. Drake had done the inexcusable. Drake had broken up his date.

In a few, hectic seconds, positions changed. Drake yelped an ungodly cry as he was hit and thrown into the wall, where he lay still. A blast of white light surged over the Wolf and he was Danny again, jumpsuit and all. Sam, relief flowing through her, ran up and hugged him… before blushing and letting go. "Danny," she said breathlessly, backing up to look at him. "Are you okay?"

He grinned broadly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you?"

"Tucker?" Kai propositioned, trotting up to her pen pal's side.

"Yeah?"

"Care to manifest some destiny?" she jerked a thumb at the two 'lovebirds'.

Catching her meaning, he nodded, and circled around behind Danny. Kai did the same with Sam… "Three," she muttered, "two, one… NOW!" They pushed the friends together, and the two fell compromisingly, Danny lying on top of her, his lips meeting hers…

They stayed that way for a long time, not thinking, not talking, and just going with it. "Congratulations," Kai whispered to Tucker, winking at him. "You've officially interfered with Fate. Feels good, don't it?"

"I'm just glad they're happy. But I would like my PDA back."

"Here." She supplied it. "I nicked it off Sam when she fell. 'S the least I could do."

"For what?"

She winked again. "Everything."

And it might have been perfect, a fairy tale ending, if it weren't for Drake. Danny and Sam had stood up again, and were busy looking deep into each other's eyes, when Drake leapt. He cannoned into Danny's side, and sat on top of him, growling, "You will be mine, damn you! I will rule the world! I've waited to long for my dream to die…"

There was a flash of blue light that rebounded in the room. And silence reigned for a precious second, as Drake was picked up and thrown into the wall once more.

"Drakkus!" A voice bellowed, dominating everything.

If you have never seen Fate before, this was not a good way for it to happen. What you especially do not want to see is a cowled cat, two feet tall, in a singed purple robe and glaring like Satan himself.

To those unfamiliar, it seems odd that the fates are cats. It makes perfect sense, really. Cats have always been the undeniable champions of steering people. A pitiful mew here, a bit of pressure with a claw there, and a cold bowl of cream for a reward… it was much similar here. Fate could influence events, but couldn't force anything to happen. Still, never underestimate the power of a dark stranger shouting "They're charging!" at a worried and jumpy army on the march. The whole Trojan War thing really had been fun…

Brother Bartholomew was skinny, black furred, with a long neck (for a cat) and a wedge shaped face. Antigoras was the direct opposite; white, fat, and pleasant looking. He was smiling. Barty was not. The time for reminiscing was over. The time for punishment had come.

Bartholomew still held a sizzling, melting piece of iron bar in his gloved paw. He blew on it, and tucked it in his cord belt. "Drake," he hissed, "it is time to go home, where we will have a… violent talk."

"But master-"

"No buts! You will come back. This is not open for discussion. You will be punished. This too is fact. I told you not to interfere with this one, but you did. There are some things that should be left well enough alone." He looked pointedly at Danny. "I make no apologies for what I must do now," he said solemnly. "I know you are very happy with your new… consort, but fate demands I erase all of your memories of tonight."

"You can do that?" Danny asked, gripping Sam's hand tightly, not wanting to let go. "Why would you?"

"It is protocol. Would you prefer the town hunted you down as a monster?"

"No," Danny mumbled morosely.

Antigoras was addressing Kai. "We… I have decided you need time off," he said jauntily, shaking her paw. Bartholomew made eye contact with her, and then looked at Drake and Danny in turn. She nodded, understanding everything. It was but a temporary leave.

Danny gave Sam a final kiss, and told Barty, "I'm ready. Turn back time."

A large blue portal materialized in the center of the room. Barty, in a rare moment of something approaching kindness, hung suspended in motion before stepping through and said, "Daniel, if it was meant to happen, it will happen again. There is no true present or future, only history repeating over and over. If it was meant to be, it will." Then the light enveloped the world again, and everything just fell away.

But even to the last, Danny kept a tight grip on Sam. Because all we want, really, is one more second. One more second with the one we love, one more second of life. One more second to do the things we need to do, say the things we have always needed to say.

One more second.

Just one more second.

And it was a perfect moment.

---

Next time: epilogue. Will anything good ever happen to Danny? Will he hook up with Sam in the end? Or will I wimp out and leave that for an as-yet-unplanned sequel? Tune in next week for the heart-rending (not really, but it will be sweet) conclusion of Full Moon over Amity Park. I love you all, dear reviewers and readers! Oh, and if you should wish to contact me outside of reviews, send me an e-mail. Hotmail is being a bitch again, and not receiving contacts from fanfiction.


	11. Epilogue: I Love you, Goodbye

Here, friends, is the end of our little tale. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. As this is the first fic I've ever finished, I'd like some feedback on it as to how it was, overall. I would appreciate if everyone who put it on their favorite or alert list would review, but I'm smart enough to know that's never going to happen. So if you have a few seconds to spare, I would really be grateful for any comments or constructive criticism you might have for a new author. Now, enjoy the last part of Full Moon over Amity Park. There will not be an author's note at the end, so here I say goodbye to you all. What a long, strange ride it's been… oh, and if you have any interest in a sequel, put that in a review as well.

---

A dim sort of light, bred from a lilac-scented candle, spread lazily over the gleaming white walls of the room, which shone white briefly before settling into a mat of shadows. The match fizzled for a minute, then burned down to his fingers with a soft yet menacing hiss, taking the extra scrap of light with it. Letting the stub drop to the equally white, smooth, uncarpeted floor, he tucked his arms and hands beneath himself, tail finding its way over his coal black nose.

It would have been a silent night. Outside the one small, barred window set into the wall, great thick flurries of perfect snow clumped together in the air and fell, accumulating gently into piling drifts. You could have set off a small bomb and the noise would have evaporated into the all-encompassing quiet.

It wasn't quite silence. It was a hush. A hush is what you get in churches at midnight, when the congregation sits in anticipative quiet, waiting with bated breath for the sermon to begin. Silence is the dead-air feeling you get when everything alive has gone and you are alone. Danny wasn't alone, as would be made perfectly clear in a few, brief seconds…

He screwed his eyes tightly shut, wanting to forget, wanting to sleep, wanting to be a real wolf. Wanting to wake up and find that his old life had been a dream, as it so often felt these days, and he had always been a huge white wolf with dangerous eyes and a flaring temper. That, oddly enough, would be easier to face.

In the days following Halloween, to which Kai had begun speaking in reference as 'the first week of the rest of your life', quite a lot had happened very rapidly, in what seemed like not enough time. There had been a few hectic nights during which Sam and Kai had been forced to continue their regimen of stabbing and healing him every night until Sam had gotten fed up with it all, and told him to confess to his parents. Everything came out. Everything, without one detail spared. They had, surprisingly, understood. Maddie, for her part, had spotted a golden opportunity to test out an invention that, conveniently enough, she had designed recently for werewolf prevention. He suspected Kai.

That had lead to the room. Or set of rooms, really; Kai, having no place better to go, had agreed to stay and keep him company/keep watch over him incase something failed so a divider had been set up. There was a door in the middle, for easy access.

On certain days, Sam or Tucker would spend the night with him, as he no longer found the need to sleep much. It was a godsend, really, even though they couldn't be there all the time. Kai by herself could be very boring though she was good enough to realize when he needed to be left well enough alone.

School was, honestly, a disaster. Though no one could remember why, Dash suddenly had a distinct fear of Danny… but somehow him screaming and tearing down the hall whenever the ex-halfa walked his way was more annoying. It pointed out that there was something about Danny worth screaming and running away from. Still, his grades had suffered little due to the sudden increase of study time, and his friends were still there for him.

Drake had disappeared.

Day after day, usually right after he had woken up or when he was about to drift into sleep, tidbits of memory of that day would come speeding back, only to leave him again. Something huge had happened… but what? He knew he'd gone out of control, done something to Drake… there had been other wolves… but something else of great import had happened, and he couldn't recall what. It was damned irritating. It would be just on the edge of his memory… but he could remember what the cat Bartholomew had said. "There is no present or future, boy, only history repeating itself over and over…" He hoped it was true.

Ever since that day he'd been more nervous around Sam than ever before. His plan- which he hadn't even been aware of possessing –to ask her out on the way home had been ruined, and his confidence dashed. He still loved her, yes, with a fiery passion that almost made him fear sleep for the dreams it produced, but he had no way of orchestrating his point.

So he'd bought her a gift. It was nothing much, and in no way a declaration of his undying love or any of that malarkey, but still he'd been too shy and afraid to give it to her. No matter how much nerve-steeling he did, how much he rehearsed what he'd say, he couldn't. Things had been easier, he reflected, when denial had just been a river in Egypt.

All this had lead, in essence, to him lying on the bed that Christmas Eve, only two months after his bite, braced for the torrent of sound about to leak out of the other half-room. He was not disappointed. Breaking the hush, a shaky, wavering musical note slid off the piano keys and through the cracked door into his space. Then, it began.

Hearing Kai play the piano was like watching crazy Uncle Fred put up Christmas lights using only an heirloom ladder, duct tape (the silver kind) and a Black and Decker cordless drill. It was grim, but somehow fascinating. You just couldn't turn away.

Danny tried to identify the piece she was slaughtering currently, and after a while placed it as the ragtime tune 'The Entertainer'. The notes sounded as if someone was laying them with a sledgehammer, and half were wrong. It was strange, he mused. It had begun with him trying to play the piano in his spare time, and quickly become Kai's passion. After only a few weeks, he surpassed her in skill but not effort. He'd given it up, and she'd moved it to her side of the room for nightly practice.

Horribly enough, she preferred show tunes, rock music, and, on the worse nights, disco. Those were the times he prayed for death.

Still, it was Christmas. He wondered… but no, it was impossible. A pipe dream. He couldn't even go out of the house, let alone…

Creaking footsteps and the slight slam of the piano cover being shut signified that Kai had given up on the music for one night. Her door opened fully and shut again, and bedsprings wailed as she sat on her bed. "Danny?" she asked, concern bandying about in her voice. He could hear her tail swishing violently around as it inevitably did when she was curious.

Honesty, the complete kind, was a stranger to them. Secrets, obviously, were not to be fully shared with other werewolves, as they would get leaked to other brothers and sisters of the fang. Still, she might be able to help… after weeks of watching her write letters which she never sent, he knew she must have some knowledge of love. "What?" he grunted, not making eye contact.

A demure little cough was ushered in. "Merry Christmas."

"Thanks." A hush-filled pause, partially taken up by words unsaid and thoughts unseen. Then, "Can you give a Christmas gift to a Jewish person?"

She considered this, her golden eyes peering out the rime-encrusted window to the blanket of white beyond. "They have a gift giving holiday, right? Passover or something like that? Besides, it's the thought that counts."

"Did you get something for Drake?"

A careful silence, as Kai was choosing her words. "No," she said slowly, "I expect Drake got exactly what he deserved this year without my help."

Danny wanted to ask her if she'd ever felt the same way about anyone as he did with Sam, but decided not to risk it. "Only, I got Sam something," he began again from before, "but I can't get it to her until after winter break, and then it won't be… Christmassy."

She got up, and traveled to the closet. When she returned, a glowing, spherical object swaddled in multi-colored cloth plopped out of her hand and onto the patchwork quilt that covered his bed. He sniffed it. It smelled of magic, and death… like a crypt after most of the rotting has already happened. Not unpleasant just… different. Maybe slightly creepy, at worst. "What…?" he began.

"Take off the rags," Kai said evenly, drawing a nervous paw over her ears. He did so. A glass orb rolled out, filled with purple and green smoke which revolved inside at its own pace, devoid of wind. At some effort, he turned partially human and picked it up, letting it slip to his claw tips. The smoke within made no reaction other than to keep doing what it had been. "It's a miniature ghost portal, Dan. But it's not like the big one. It connects with one room, inaccessible from anywhere else, where your ghost side is trapped. No more than a wisp, he is… but if you could restore him to a host, even quickly…"

More hush. Somewhere outside, a group of especially determined carolers had begun singing Silent Night. "How…"

"Triple possession. Doesn't work for long; you'd get sick and die. But as long as you transfer him back to the ball within… oh, about an hour, you could…"

"Be a halfa again," he breathed, stroking the surface reverently. "I could give Sam her gift without her ever knowing I was there…"

She smiled. "Quite right. Now, I'm not doing you any more favors. From here on out, you're in this alone, got it?"

He nodded. One problem solved, nine-hundred and ninety-nine left to go.

---

Bartholomew stood over the Book. There were plenty of them in his wide, cramped, oil-lamp lit library, but none like this one. It was three-thousand volumes of Encyclopedic human history, from the first man onwards, condensed into one. The words, in some places, were peeling. Towards the end of the text, where a dwindling number of blank pages represented history yet to be, the ink was freshly laid and writing itself. History in action.

His quill lay untouched on the lectern's oaken side. He'd never used it. He preferred interfering with the steady flow of current events in a more subtle, chaotic way. That's what the wolves were for.

The telltale floorboard groaned as Antigoras entered, dripping a trail of sickening innocence behind him. Barty regretted inviting him for Christmas. "Yes?" He asked, glancing at a nearby hourglass and jotting the time down on a scrap of paper. "You need something, then?"

"Not as such," the fat white cat replied, extending a pudgy arm. "I just thought you might appreciate some plum pudding. Cook whipped it up special for us."

He sighed. Antigoras just couldn't make anything easy for him. Giving in, he turned and glared coolly at the offered meal. "Give it here," he growled, snatching a glass bowl from the other's weak grip. He lowered a spoonful onto his tongue. Grudgingly, he had to admit it: Drake was damned good at KP duty. "Thanks," he snorted through another spoonful of the sugary treat.

Antigoras sat down on a padded wine colored piano bench, where he casually asked, "You've been in here a long time, old lad. What have you been thinking about?"

Bartholomew ran a free hand over the lectern, brushing it against the yellowing pages of the Book. Any volume, he thought, that deserved to be pronounced with a capital letter and no title deserved respect. "We are old, Antigoras," he sighed, launching off on a tangent. "As old as the stars. Life can go on without us; we know it to be true. And yet, here we sit, backs to the wall and masters of eternity. What have we done, when it all comes down to it?"

"Er…"

"Exactly my point. Nothing. You asked, I think, what I am thinking about. The answer is, sadly enough, everything. It is all I have ever thought about. The needs of the many as opposed to the needs of the few. But now… now I am feeling pity for the Fenton boy. I find myself awake at night, wondering what will become of a few individuals. I am old, Antigoras, and I am tired."

"Um…"

"The time has come, I believe, for us to rest. Not to leave; we shall always be here. But if your assistant gets a break, then we should as well. Good night, my friend. Tomorrow is, at last, another day."

"Er… what day is that?"

The corners of Bartholomew's mouth turned up in a smirkish smile. "Tomorrow, dear Antigoras, is the first day of the rest of our lives."

---

The ghostly specter of Daniel James Fenton, trapped at the age of fifteen, hovered a few inches off Sam Manson's devilishly black carpeting, his hair as white as the snow outside, and totally human. Pale light from outside flowed through her window and turned her skin a milky white, her hair raven onyx with streaks of silver.

He smiled a melancholy smile, eyes lingering over the curves of her form before laying the open jewelry box on her bedside table. The light caught its contents, too, creating a small sparkle.

A ring. Not a particularly original gift idea but, hey, it was the holiday season. And girls liked that sort of thing, right? So he'd got her a silver one, which had, admittedly, been hard to pull off. When he'd picked it up from the store, he'd had to wear oven mitts to keep from passing out. All in the name of love. On the silver band were two small diamonds set around a large, obsidian stone. It looked good. Very Goth-y. The band even had a pattern of bats.

He sighed deeply, and as he turned to leave, he whispered into the darkness, "I love you, Sam. I will forever, wolf or no. I love you."

---

Kai sighed and gave up on the piano once more. Tinkling out a few random, clunky notes, she shut the lid again. It came down with a final sounding 'clunk'.

There was a desk next to the piano. She'd had it installed for covert letter-writing, once she'd discovered that Danny no longer bothered with the instrument. Privacy, after all, was a virtue that she prized. There was so little of it in modern culture. The room had been built, naturally, to keep Danny sane during the transformation. Comfort was an optimal bonus, but not required.

She uncapped the ballpoint pen she kept handy, (blue ink- his favorite color) and wrenched a piece of lined paper forcefully from its tablet. Laying the paper flat against the wood of the desk, she began to write. And it continued. The tradition had been going for years. She wrote him a letter every night, without fail, and then stuffed it in her drawer never to be read by human eyes again. She licked the pen tip to start the ink running as she bought time to think of what to say.

Pen connected with paper as it formed, in a crowded cursive scrawl legible only to those who could read Latin shorthand or whom had worked in an insane asylum, the date. December 24th, 2007. She paused, the pen shooting up an inch off the surface, then lowered it with surgical precision and added, _Dear Euin. _Another long, icy pause happened. She didn't instigate them; they crept up on her. And now, it was beginning to dawn on Kai that, for the first time in half a century, she had nothing to say to him.

He would be in his sixties now, she mused. Probably with a nice wife and a widespread family. Maybe even grandchildren. She needed, really, to stop this charade. But old habits die hard, and this one was always a comfort to her. It was like having an imaginary friend who, in the back of your mind but also in real life, existed somewhere.

The pen was writing of its own accord now, as she was sure she was not dictating the heartfelt but extremely sappy words of regret that were spilling forth onto the page. Angry with herself, she broke the line of contact and hurled the pen across the room with such vehemence that it sailed clear through the door and thumped against the five inch thick window pane. The drying ink left a blue trail across the bottom of the paper where she'd yanked it away. She scrutinized it as if trying to give it marks. Ye Gods, had she really been writing poetry? Why didn't she just go get the dagger now and end it all?

Damn Christmas. She would have picked that day to give in, to go with Drake to the castle of Fate and accept her destiny. Damn, damn bloody Christmas. She should have gone on New Year's. At least that was already depressing.

But life went on. Outside, the snow continued to come down in white sheets. Inside, Danny's family would be going to bed. And everywhere else, life went on. Fate went on. History plodded relentlessly forward, sweeping her up with it. Leaning back in her chair, she smiled. The good of the many of the good of the few. It was a nice mentality. And it was hers.

And, because she felt like it, the whole world was hers. It was a mindset you worked yourself into. Anyone can do it. It's a matter of belief.

And, there and then, she believed. She wanted, above all, to believe.

In the drawer, under stacks of paperwork and unsent letters, the scrying glass was conjuring up a picture. Somewhere, a larger than life dingo with bright green eyes and a hat (and, most importantly, opposable thumbs) was writing a letter. A letter dated 24th December, 2007.

Addressee: Kai Wolfstein.

And life was good.

---

Sam heard a lot. You pick up many things as an insomniac, hovering between sleep and waking. One of them is often not sleep.

She smiled to herself, eyeing the ring where it sat. She knew now. She could remember. But it was okay if he didn't want to tell her outright, right now. It was understandable, what with the wolfishness and all. When he was ready, he would tell her.

She slumped against her pillows (black) and pulled her covers (still black) up to her chin. The night, refuge of Goths worldwide, was her friend. It was warm and comforting, even in the dead of winter.

She thought of him, his smile, his sincerity, his sense of heroics. The adorable way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was embarrassed. She loved him. Hell if she didn't; he was too wonderful, too amazing, too _him_ not to love.

And though she knew he couldn't hear her, or maybe because of it, she whispered to the darkness. The words felt good on her tongue, like sweet honey. "I love you too, Danny. I love you too."

---

Time waits for no man, even if he is a werewolf. Instead, it flows around them, those unfortunate few trapped within a life without aging, tearing away the people that they love and wiping away all they know until all that is left is dreams. Dreams, Technicolor miracles that they are, and misbegotten memories that haunt the minds of man and wolf kind alike.

Dreams are a good thing. They remind you, on a base level, that you are human, even if the rest of you isn't. Or, at the very least, that you started out human. They remind you that there is a place, in the darkness behind the eyes that never forgets, never lets go. A place that hangs on to those we care for long after they are gone and we are left alone. Even when everyone else is gone, they are still with you in heart and soul.

What we all want, it seems, is more time. We wish for it, beg for it, would kill for it until we realize what it means to be the only fourteen year old among a group of old friends who are decrepit and barely conscious. And in the moment we realize that one day all we know will be gone, we have our eyes open for the first time, and can truly see. Man is born blind, and walks through life that way. Only with eyes open can we observe the world for what it is.

But Danny wasn't giving up. Because in the end, what matters isn't that you got the girl, or even that you managed to hang on to her for the duration of your life. What matters is that, as Kai had said, you lived life to the fullest while you still could. Because when you've got an eternity on Earth, the present is all you have.


End file.
